


Witness Protection

by jncar



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Comedy and Drama, Complete, Crime AU, F/M, Gen, Gun Violence, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Slow Burn, Witness Protection AU, depictions of violence, imported from LJ for archive purposes, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-10-12 07:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 182,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10485279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jncar/pseuds/jncar
Summary: When corporate whistleblowers Ben Adams and Chris Robinson barely escape an attempt on their lives, they gladly accept the protection of the Federal Witness Protection program. What they don't count on is being sent to a city that feels more like something out of a movie or a sitcom than real life: Pawnee Indiana. An AU starting in "Master Plan." (originally posted on LiveJournal from autumn 2011-autumn 2013)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still importing old fics from Live Journal for archiving purposes. My LJ is also "jncar." This was written during the show's original television run, and was published from October 2011 - November 2013. It's my most ambitious Parks fic, and I'm very proud of it. I'll be importing chapters as time permits.

After stepping out of the town car to the sidewalk in front of the courthouse, Ben Adams hunched his shoulders and lowered his head, trying to make himself as small as possible. His eyes darted around the crowd of reporters and protesters. Any one of them could be packing a gun. He lurched a little closer to his bodyguard, and wondered if, next time, they would let him wear a Kevlar vest under his suit.  
  
He glanced back to the car to see Chris Robinson stepping out, and rolled his eyes. The man stood as tall as ever, smiling and waving for the cameras. Ben had always liked Chris, but lately he'd been wearing on his nerves. It was like he didn't get just how deep the shit they were in really was. This wasn't a goddamn movie premiere—they were about to testify against George Everson, the CEO of one of the most powerful pharmaceutical companies in America. A man who literally commanded his own army of security personnel. A man who hadn't thought twice about condemning kids with cancer to die in order to increase his own profit margins.  
  
A man who wouldn't hesitate to have the "pansy ass whistleblowers" killed before they had a chance to bring him down.  
  
Ben continued to hunch behind the bodyguard as they made their way up the courthouse steps. He ignored the clicking cameras and shouted questions all around him and focused on the only two things that represented safety: the solid, black-jacketed back of his bodyguard, and the courthouse doors up ahead.  
  
The inside of the courthouse would still be terrifying, but in more of a "we'd better win this case or I'm a dead man" kind of way, rather than the current "I'd better get out of the open and away from people or I'm a dead man" kind of way. And this was just a pre-trial hearing. There were months more of constant fear still ahead of him.  
  
Naturally, Ben would have preferred to return to his calm, simple, normal life as an internal auditor. But he'd given up any shot at normal when he turned informant for the FBI. No—normal simply wasn't an option any more. He'd made this bed. Now he had to learn to sleep in it.  
  
Ben reached the top of the stairs, where the prosecuting attorney waited to greet him. The man, as always, wore a suit that looked like it cost more than Ben's car. His haircut probably cost more than Ben's suit. And his watch—well, his watch would have paid off Ben's student loans.  
  
The attorney shot Ben a grin with sparkling white teeth, and patted him on the back. "Don't look so worried, man. You're going to do just fine."  
  
Ben nodded and gulped. Sure. Just fine.  
  
The attorney turned away toward the crowd and his eyes suddenly went wide. He clutched at his chest, toppling backward.  
  
Ben had no time to process the sight. His bodyguard flung him to the ground—hard—and then jumped on top of him.  
  
Screams filled the air as Ben struggled for breath, the wind knocked out of him. His eyes darted to where the attorney lay, just a few feet away.  
  
The man's eyes stood open—empty and unblinking. A red stain spread across his pin-striped shirt.  
  
Oh fuck.  
  
A moment later the bodyguard rolled off of Ben, yanked him to his feet and shoved him through the courtroom doors. A gang of security guards and police officers surrounded him and hustled him back to an anonymous conference room.   
  
Ben collapsed into a chair, still gasping for breath, barely comprehending the words the police officers were shouting at each other. Only one word stood out: sniper.  
  
A second gang ushered Chris into the room. For once, he looked flustered and completely out of his element. It was almost enough to cheer Ben up. Almost.  
  
Chris sank into a chair next to Ben.  
  
"Are you all right?" Ben managed to choke out.  
  
Chris nodded, a dazed look in his eyes. Then his gaze drifted to Ben's shoulder. Without a word, he pointed.  
  
Ben craned his neck, and saw what looked like frayed fabric on the shoulder of his suit-coat. Wait a minute—was that a bullet hole?  
  
"Holy shit!" He leaped to his feet, pulling of his jacket. "Am I hit? Am I hit?" He'd feel something if he was hit, wouldn't he? Or could shock mask that kind of pain?  
  
Two cops rushed over to him as he dropped his coat to the floor. The sleeve of his shirt was ripped and blood stained. Ben finally registered the feeling of blood running down his arm. He wobbled on his feet, feeling faint. Had the bullet nicked an artery? Was he going to bleed out right here in the conference room?  
  
One of the cops took his uninjured arm, holding him up before he had a chance to collapse.   
  
"Get a paramedic in here! The witness is wounded!" shouted a grizzled-looking old cop, before ripping the fabric of Ben's shirt away from the wound. A straight, deep abrasion stood stark and red on Ben's shoulder, leaking blood at a slow but steady pace.   
  
The grizzled cop nodded. "Just a graze. You'll live. You got lucky, son."  
  
Ben gulped. The so-called graze looked pretty damn bad to him. But then the image of the empty-eyed attorney lying unmoving on the stairs filled his mind. That could have been Ben. "Yeah. Lucky."  
  
Chris moved to stand beside him, staring at the bloody wound on Ben's shoulder.  
  
He looked up to meet Ben's eyes. "Ben—someone literally just tried to kill us."  
  
For the first time since they'd decided to go to the FBI together, Chris actually looked scared.   
  
That terrified the shit out of Ben more than anything else that had happened to them.   
  
A couple of paramedics rushed into the conference room, and as they started treating his wound, all Ben could think was: _What do we do now?_  
  
  


_Three Weeks Later_

  
  
"Hey, Wyatt!"  
  
It took Ben a moment to perk up and turn around from where he stood by the coffee pot in the kitchen of the condo he now shared with Chris.  
  
Marshal Ryan Lewis, a round-faced, balding man, rolled his eyes from where he sat on the sofa. Marshal Tonya Burdette, a slim brunette perched on the arm of the couch beside Lewis, called, "You'll have to be faster than that. Remember, Ben Wyatt is your name, now. Respond to it. Make it yours. This is your identity. You have to own it."  
  
Ben smiled grimly and nodded. "Yeah. Got it. Want some coffee?" He could probably drink the whole pot himself. Anything to clear the fog of anxiety from his mind. But his mother taught him manners, and, like his old name, those weren't something he'd easily forget.  
  
Both marshals asked for coffee—Lewis taking sugar and cream, Burdette asking for black.  
  
Just as Ben handed them both their mugs, Chris bounded down the stairs, humming. A bright smile lit up his face when he saw the marshals in the living room.  
  
"Marshal Lewis! Marshal Burdette!" he said, pointing at each of them in turn. "I'm so pleased you came to see us off to our first day of work." They both grinned and waved back. Like nearly everyone, they'd taken to Chris the moment they met him.  
  
Ben gritted his teeth. He'd lectured Chris, repeatedly, on the fact that they weren't in town to make friends. They were here to play it safe, fly under the radar, and keep their heads down for the next six months until it was time to come out of hiding and testify. Somehow, the lectures still hadn't sunk in.  
  
"Are you two all set to go?" asked Lewis. "You remember all the names, places, and details?"  
  
Ben swallowed a gulp of his own coffee and nodded. "We've been drilling everything for the past week. I think we've got it by now."  
  
He dreaded heading to his new job, but he needed to be strong. Sure, getting back into government work was bound to bring up some unpleasant memories—flashbacks to days better forgotten. But it really would be a good place to lie low.  
  
Pawnee, Indiana was sure to be the last place George Everson and his goons would ever come looking.  
  
***  
  
Leslie cradled her hefty copy of the Master Plan in her arms like a baby—a glorious, bureaucrat-ese filled baby, livened up with a healthy dose of Jack London quotes. She strode toward the meeting room with her head held high, Ron lumbering along beside her. Between her meticulous planning and Ron's ability to cow other department heads into submission, she knew that today would be her day. Fifteen long months of work as the head of her own sub-committee were about to pay off.  
  
Today, she'd finally get her park.  
  
She paused just inside the door of the meeting room, putting a hand on Ron's chest to stop him.  
  
"What?" he grumbled.  
  
"Can't you just feel it?" she said, closing her eyes and inhaling. "I can even smell it. The excitement. The electricity in the air. This is my day, Ron. It's finally coming together."  
  
Ron gave her a long stare—the kind she'd come to recognize as bemused skepticism. "I'm hitting the refreshment table," he finally said.  
  
She rolled her eyes and let him go, finding seats near the front. Let Ron be a skeptic all he wanted. She was believer enough for both of them.  
  
After a few minutes the room finished filling up, and Paul took his place at the front of the room. Two strange men followed him, taking seats behind the podium. Leslie frowned. She hoped that whoever they were, they wouldn't do anything to disrupt the budget meeting. She wouldn't tolerate anything ruining this big day for her. Although they _were_ both pretty good-looking. One was all smiles as he looked over the gathering like he was trying to memorize each face. The other one looked uncomfortable in front of the crowd, and stared down at his feet. He wasn't as attractive as his grinning companion, but his hair looked nice and Leslie really liked his shirt.   
  
Leslie shook her head. Now was hardly the time to be ogling strange men. Yes, it had been a few months since she dumped Justin, and she was starting to feel the itch to get back out there again. But today there were other priorities. Like getting her park.  
  
Paul raised his voice. "Good morning everybody. Now, I know you all have your budget presentations ready, but there's been a change of plans."  
  
Leslie's eyes went wide. Wait—what did he just say?  
  
"Due to the crippling gridlock in city council," Paul continued, "we are postponing all planning and spending decisions indefinitely."  
  
"Until when?" asked Leslie.  
  
"Indefinitely," Paul repeated.  
  
No, no, no. "And when will that end?"  
  
"Later then now."  
  
Oh god. "So this week, probably?" Today, damn it. She was supposed to get her park _today_.  
  
"Look," said Paul, coming around the front of the podium to sit on the table. "We are bordering on a full blown crisis, Leslie, and the state government is threatening us with an audit unless we get our budget under control. So I've hired two new budget consultants to come in with fresh eyes to help us reorganize and pare down."   
  
Leslie could feel her blood start to boil at the words "pare down."  
  
Cities in crisis mode did not build new parks. Cities that were paring down did not build new parks.   
  
This was her project—her triumph. The success that was going to elevate her career to the next level.  
  
And now they were _paring down_?  
  
"I'd like to introduce Chris Traeger and Ben Wyatt," said Paul, gesturing to the two men seated behind him. "They started reviewing all your budgets yesterday, and for the rest of the day they'll be coming around to each of your departments to introduce themselves and to start getting your perspective on our budget dilemmas. I expect you all to cooperate with them to the fullest extent. From now on, they are the word of god as far as your budgets are concerned."  
  
The smiling man waved brightly, the other just raised his eyes to the crowd and nodded his head.   
  
Leslie hated them. Why had she ever thought they were attractive? They were terrible. They were destroyers of dreams and killers of parks. If things were really as bad as Paul suggested, then it wasn't just her park at stake—it was her whole department. She had to fight them, and she had to win.  
  
***  
  
Chris was having a fabulous day. He strode through the corridors of Pawnee city hall, waving at all his new acquaintances. Such a lovely—if somewhat overweight—group of people. So far he _loved_ being Chris Traeger. He particularly liked the name Traeger—the way it danced off his tongue. But the rest of the experience so far had been wonderful, too.  
  
Chris had lived his whole life in large metropolises, Chicago, Boston, Atlanta, Denver, and even Indianapolis. (That had been one of the deciding factors in sending them to Indiana. Chris remembered the area well enough to sound like a native.) Pawnee was his first taste of small-town life, and so far it was proving to be utterly delightful.  
  
He glanced over at Ben, who looked worn out and wilting though it was still early afternoon. Chris understood perfectly well why Ben still felt a little traumatized by his near-miss at the courthouse, but he would have thought Ben would be perking up by now. After all, they were safe under the umbrella of the Federal Witness Protection program. No one would find them here. And Ben grew up in a small town—Pawnee ought to feel like coming home for him. Instead, he seemed even more unsettled than he had in their two months of being shuffled under guard from hotel to hotel before the disastrous (nearly fatal) pre-trial hearing.  
  
Well, if there was one thing that Chris had learned after three years of having Ben as his boss, it was that nothing made Ben calmer or more focused than work. Time to put that knowledge to good use.   
  
"Next up is the Parks Department," Chris said. "I suggest that after the initial meet-and-greet, I return to the Public Health department to start going over their spreadsheets with them, and you can stay in Parks to do the same." Some good old-fashioned number crunching would be just the thing to settle Ben down.  
  
"Sounds fine," replied Ben.  
  
Chris nodded and led the way into the Parks Department. He greeted the waiting bureaucrats brightly, committing their names to memory. His memory skills had served him well over the years, and it was best to keep up his mental exercises here in Pawnee, even though his stay wouldn't be long.  
  
He recognized Leslie Knope as the enthusiastic blonde from the department head meeting that morning. She was moderately pretty—not really Chris's type—but she also demonstrated a great deal of passion for her work, even inviting them on a tour of her department. People who felt passionately about their vocations were literally the best people on earth to work with.  
  
Chris envied Ben for getting the chance to stay and work with her more closely. The people in Public Health didn't look half so interesting.   
  
Oh well. There'd be plenty of other chances.  
  
Chris headed back toward Public Health with a bounce in his step. Surely an hour examining facts and figures with Parks would leave Ben in a far better mood. His mood certainly couldn't get any worse.  
  
***  
  
Ben looked at the ceiling all through the "broken carousel" speech which Chris had spent the morning perfecting. Yesterday, just sitting in an office going over numbers, hadn't been too bad. But today, meeting with the mayor and visiting all the city departments all day, felt like a nightmare. It was Partridge all over again, only on steroids. Twice as big, but just as financially screwed. His only consolation was that this time the budget woes weren't his fault. In fact, he might actually be able to help fix them. Not that he was naïve enough to think that helping Pawnee would in any way redeem him for what happened in Partridge.   
  
Ben had learned long ago that you could never really make up for past mistakes. The best you could hope for was to avoid making the same mistakes a second time.  
  
Chris then insisted on letting the perky Deputy Director of Parks take them on a tour of her miniscule department. Ben recognized her from the department head meeting as the one who'd seemed most devastated at the news that no new spending would be approved. Ben knew her type—obnoxious, small-minded people puffed up with an inflated opinion of their own importance, convinced that their projects deserved more consideration than anyone else's. He'd met the same type during his disastrous flirtation with government back in Partridge, and he'd met them over and over again during his years in the private sector. He wished he could trade Chris and take Public Health instead of Parks. Anything to avoid being cooped up with Leslie Knope.  
  
Grudgingly he joined Ms. Knope and Mr. Swanson in the Parks Department conference room to start going over their budget. As he arranged his materials on the table in front of them, Ms. Knope spoke up, "I really like your shirt."  
  
Ugh. Time to stop the ass kissing before it really got going. "So, I'd like to talk about where you think there's waste in your department."  
  
Ben watched in puzzlement as Ms. Knope adamantly defended the expenditures of her department and its personnel, while Mr. Swanson laughed and joked about his eagerness to see everything slashed to the bone. Who was really in charge here? And how in the world did these two people manage to work together on a daily basis?  
  
"Well, Chris said you just had to tinker with things," said Leslie, defensively, when Ben told her just how deep the cuts would need to be.  
  
For some reason, her passion for her department irked him. This was more than just the natural defensiveness people in her position normally showed. This was something deeper, and it unsettled him. "Yeah, he said that because that sounds a lot better then _we're going to gut it with a machete_." He knew the words were too harsh the moment he said them, but it had already been a long day.  
  
Mr. Swanson laughed gleefully, making stabbing gestures with his hands, but Ms. Knope fixed Ben with an icy glare. "You're a jerk."  
  
That one caught him off guard. Ass kissing, he understood. Defensiveness, he understood. But outright hostility? What purpose could that possibly serve for her, other than to put her own job on the chopping block? "I'm sorry?"  
  
"I'm sorry—these are real people, in a real town, working in a real building, with real feelings."  
  
What? "This building has feelings?" He knew he sounded like a jerk, only reinforcing her current opinion of him, but he half expected her to catch the sarcastic tone of his joke and respond in kind.  
  
Instead, she responded with sincerity. "Maybe. There's a lot of history in this one. Maybe it does. How can you be so blasé about this?"  
  
At that moment he realized why she unsettled him so much—she reminded him of the misguided young man who'd stood before the entire city government of Partridge, Minnesota, arguing passionately for the continued viability of a winter sports complex long after it was clear that the project was doomed. Yet she was a woman in her thirties, with an entire career in government to teach her the same kind of cynicism and self-interest that most of the other bureaucrats he'd ever met possessed. Why hadn't she fallen into that trap? How had she held onto that youthful passion? And how the hell could he work with someone so blind?  
  
"Because I didn't cause these problems, Ms. Knope. Your government did." He injected perhaps a little too much venom into those final words. But after the dismal failure of government security at the courthouse in Atlanta, he didn't think too highly of _any_ government right now—particularly not a muddled and mixed up small-town bureaucracy. He couldn't deal with this right now.  
  
He rose to his feet, packing up his paperwork. "I'll get what I need from the spreadsheets." He left the Parks department without another word, and stalked back to his new office. He dropped his stack of papers on his table. God. He didn't know how he'd get through six months of this.  
  
He sank to a chair, and rubbed self-consciously at the still-tender wound on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, and sighed. He'd been too hard on Ms. Knope, and he knew it. Just because he was putting his own life on the line to bring down a corporate tyrant didn't mean that he should start dismissing everyone else's concerns and priorities as unimportant. He knew that. He'd spent most of his own adult life consumed with the same kind of trivial concerns. It would be nice to live in that kind of world again—where his decisions and recommendations didn't tip the balance between life and death, justice and injustice.  
  
Really, he ought to follow Chris's example and let himself relax for the next few months. Let himself forget his troubles in the simple worries of small-town government. It might help him forget his fears. Maybe he'd stop jumping out of his skin at every loud noise or creaking floorboard in the night.  
  
He probably owned Ms. Knope an apology.  
  
It was with that thought still in his mind that he heard Chris suggesting they go to the 21st birthday party for the dark-haired young woman who worked in the Parks department.  
  
"It's the first social invitation we've received here in the great city of Pawnee," said Chris, "and I think we should make the most of it."  
  
Ben wondered if Ms. Knope would be there. Probably—the party was for one of her colleagues, after all. He shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter originally posted on livejournal in October 2011

If Ben had known that the birthday party was being held at a crowded nightclub, he would have said, "NO."  
  
The instant he stepped through the doors into the chaotic atmosphere of the Snakehole Lounge, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. This was a deathtrap waiting to happen. Lots of dark corners and half-walls, perfect for an assassin to move covertly. Noise to hide the sound of a strangled cry. Throngs of similarly-aged people to improve the anonymity of an assailant—just another face in the crowd.   
  
As Ben and Chris moved further into the club, Ben's found consolation in the fact that most of the patrons were dressed too tightly or skimpily to conceal a gun. Most—but not all. His breath came in shallow gasps and he walked closer to Chris as they moved toward the bar. Not that Chris would be much of a barrier against a well-placed bullet, but the closeness provided a psychological anchor. Without that anchor, the Snakehole Lounge would almost surely trigger another panic attack. (Marshal Burdette said she'd get a trusted doctor to write Ben a prescription for some meds to help curtail his frustrating new problem, but she hadn't come through, yet.)  
  
"Ron Swanson!"said Chris, pointing at the burly, mustached man standing by the bar.  
  
Swanson nodded in greeting. "Chris. Ben. Good of you gents to stop by."  
  
"We wouldn't miss it for the world," said Chris. "We're so excited to get to know all our new colleagues. Aren't we, Ben?" Chris patted Ben on the shoulder.  
  
"Yeah. Sure," Ben said, leaning against the bar to steady himself. Dizziness was one of his panic symptoms. Not good. Very not good.  
  
"Let me buy you both a drink," said Swanson.  
  
Ben's eyes narrowed, and his dizziness receded. Swanson hadn't struck him as the brown-nosing type. Maybe he hadn't read the man correctly during their first encounter. He'd been too distracted by Ms. Knope. He went ahead and ordered a Miller Lite on Swanson's tab, but kept his hackles up. Ben wouldn't be backed into making any budgetary promises just because the man was being friendly and easing Ben down from his panic mode.  
  
"I don't normally attend these sorts of social gatherings," said Ron, "but April is a highly valued member of my department, so I made an exception."  
  
"I see." So that explained the invitation and the drink. Just trying to make sure they didn't recommend laying off his assistant. Ben took a long swig of his beer. As usual, everyone had an ulterior motive.   
  
Ron tapped his glass of whiskey thoughtfully. "I don't much go for the _clubbing_ scene." He gestured nebulously around him. "I'm more of an outdoorsman, myself. Do you boys enjoy camping?"  
  
"I love camping!" replied Chris. "And hiking. And rock climbing." He started wagging his finger, as if checking each item of an invisible list. "And mountain biking. Skiing. Nordic walking. Kayaking. Tree climbing. Spelunking. Snow-shoeing. I love literally all outdoor physical activities."  
  
Ron raised his eyebrows. "How about fishing?"  
  
"No. I don't much care for fishing."   
  
Ben barely repressed a laugh. He was used to Chris's quirks by now, but it was always amusing to see other people reacting to them for the first time.  
  
Ron frowned. "How about you, Ben? Do you enjoy camping?"  
  
"Not really. I don't like sleeping on the floor." Ben took another sip of his beer, trying to ignore the jostling passers-by behind him.  
  
Ron's frown deepened. "It's called _the ground_ when you're outside, son."  
  
An awkward silence descended over them. Chris perked up again when he spied another familiar face. "Look—it's city planner Mark Brendanawicz. He seems like he could use some company. I think I'll go say hello. Care to join me, Ben?"  
  
Ben contemplated his options: the comforting solidity of the bar with the awkward company of Ron Swanson, or crossing through the potentially panic attack-inducing crowd to strike up an equally awkward conversation with a city planner he barely remembered? "Uh—I think I'll hang here."  
  
"All right." Chris nodded. "Thanks for the drink, Ron. I'll be seeing you around." He slid easily away through the teeming mass of semi-drunken humanity.  
  
Ben stared down at his drink, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Ron did the same.  
  
After a moment of silence Ron cleared his throat. "Now that we're alone, I thought I should say that I'm looking forward to slashing our budget to the bone, and my department will do all we can to cooperate with your efforts. Even Leslie."  
  
Ben glanced over at Ron and raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure about that?" She'd seemed anything _but_ cooperative that afternoon.  
  
"She gets very passionate about things she cares about, and tends to get a little carried away when those things are threatened," replied Ron, carefully sidestepping Ben's question.  
  
"She cares about a lot of things, doesn't she?" asked Ben. He still had trouble believing that Ms. Knope could really be as idealistic as she'd seemed.  
  
"Unfortunately, yes," Ron grumbled.  
  
Ben sighed. He had a sinking feeling that Ms. Knope would be a thorn in his side for all of the next six months. Unless, maybe, he could set things right. "Is she here? I feel like I should apologize for how curt I was with her this afternoon. It was a pretty long day, and I wasn't at my best."  
  
"I'm sure she would appreciate that," replied Ron. "She's over there." He gestured to a table a short distance away, where Leslie sat with another woman behind a clutter of empty bottles and glasses. She'd changed out of her work attire into a shimmery red top, and pulled her hair back from her face. While Ben watched, she laughed at something her friend said, a broad smile lighting up her face. She looked almost—pretty.   
  
_Where did that come from?_ Ben wondered.  
  
Ron's words gave him hope that she'd be receptive to his apology—especially since he was catching her in a good mood.  
  
She looked up and her eyes briefly met his. Her face hardened and she turned back to her friend and started muttering—something critical, undoubtedly. So much for her good mood.  
  
Ben eyed the distance between the bar and Ms. Knope's table warily. The space looked pretty clear, and none of the club patrons nearby seemed to be wearing bulky enough clothes to conceal any weaponry. He took a deep breath. He couldn't live his whole life in fear—and if he wanted the next six months to run smoothly, it would be better to have Ms. Knope as an ally than an enemy. Time to be brave.  
  
After taking one last look around to scan for potential assailants, Ben scurried across the bar to Ms. Knope's table.  
  
His first indication of how drunk she was came when she held out her hand to him as if she expected to bow and kiss it. He managed to angle it into a semi-regular handshake before speaking. "Um—look—uh—I kind of feel like we got off on the wrong foot, so I just wanted to stop by and—"  
  
"Yeah, well save your breath, okay?" She glared up at him. "Just get out of here. Because this is a party with my friends, and you're trying to fire all my friends."  
  
Okay. Either she was even drunker than she looked, or she had no regard for her own job security. Or some combination of the two.  
  
Ben tried to cut in. "I—"  
  
"Plus," she barreled on, "I just talked to everybody in this bar, and nobody wants you here."  
  
She was definitely very drunk. Ben wasn't sure if he wanted to lecture her on the impropriety of her behavior, or smile at how utterly unguarded and natural she still managed to be after more than a decade in government. Instead, he simply raised his eyebrows and said, "That must have a taken a while."  
  
"Yeah—it did." She pointed a finger at him. "You're a cold callous person, and you want to kill people with machetes."  
  
Against his better judgment the beginnings of a smile curved at the edges of his mouth. What would it be like to live in Leslie Knope's head, just for one day? The thought was strangely appealing.   
  
"And Ann is right. I should make my own plan so that you can't hurt us. So that's what I'm gonna do."  
  
He found himself hoping that she really would make her own plan (he assumed she meant for the Parks budget). He'd really like to see what kind of budget items she would prioritize. But for now, she was far too drunk and worked up to listen to his apology with any degree of rationality. Time for a strategic retreat.  
  
"Um, okay. Then I'll just—see you tomorrow. Sorry to bother you." He edged away from the table.  
  
"Get out of here!" She called after him.  
  
Ben shook his head a little as he crossed back to the bar.  
  
When he got close, Swanson spoke up. "Leslie's really not at her best today. Allow me to apologize—"  
  
Ben held up a hand. "Nope. Not necessary. Really. I'm not bothered."  
  
Swanson frowned again (Ben suspected that might be his natural expression), and nodded without further comment.  
  
Ben ordered a second beer and leaned against the bar, looking back at Leslie. Once again, she smiled and chatted with her friend as if nothing bad had happened.  
  
Yeah. A day in her head would be pretty damn fascinating.  
  
If Leslie had been on his internal auditing team at Everson Pharmaceutical, instead of taking bribes to conceal evidence and keep quiet (like several of his actual team members had), she would have stood on the side of truth and gone to the FBI along with him and Chris. He felt certain of it. Ben couldn't say exactly why he was so sure of this sudden impression—only that he was.   
  
Leslie was one of the good guys.  
  
Glancing around the club again, it occurred to him that from the moment he started talking to her, all his panic symptoms had vanished. Somehow, knowing that this town could produce someone like Leslie Knope had set him at ease.  
  
***  
  
"Is he watching me, or is he watching you?" Leslie asked again. Ugh. Why wouldn't Ben-the-jerk just leave, like she'd commanded? And worse, why did he keep staring at them?  
  
"You. Definitely you," replied Ann.  
  
"Are you sure? He might be dazzled by your beauty. Lots of people are." Leslie picked up a bottle of beer and tipped the last few drops into her mouth. Then she searched among the bottles on the table to see if any of them had any more left. They didn't.  
  
"You're sweet. But he's totally looking at you. Maybe he's into women who're mean to him. Like, dominatrixes and stuff." Ann hiccupped.   
  
"Ew." Totally gross. Leslie could see the appeal of tying a guy up, but she drew the line at whips and spanking. That's what dominatrixes did, right? But no one would want to do that stuff to Ben. At least not in a kinky way. There had to be another reason he kept looking at her. "Do I have something on my face? Or did a bird get stuck in my hair again?" She started fishing through her hair.  
  
"You look fine. And when did you get a bird stuck in your hair?" Ann did her own search for bottles containing drinkable beer, and came up as empty as Leslie had.  
  
"I never told you that story? It's hilarious. I was at Circle Park with—I don't remember who—and a bird tried to take my nest for its hair—my hair for its nest—and it got stuck."   
  
Ann collapsed in giggles. "That is hilarious."  
  
"I know, right?" Leslie laughed with her friend. Until she looked back at the bar and saw jerk-face Ben still looking their way.  
  
"Ugh," she said. "I still think he's looking at you." A light bulb went on in her head and she waved her hands. "I know! I know how to figure it out. We'll split up. You go that way," she pointed, "and I'll go that way," she pointed in the other direction, "and we'll see who he keeps watching."  
  
Ann grabbed her arm. "You are sooo smart, Leslie. Did I ever tell you how smart you are? Because you are soooo smart."  
  
"Aww. Thanks. Now—let's do this!" Leslie rose to her feet and wobbled her way across the club, bumping into a few dancers as she moved. "Sorry. Watch it. Move it, pal!"  
  
Then she bumped right into Mark.  
  
"Whoa!" She blinked a few times as Mark caught her arms to stop her from falling.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked.  
  
"I am fiiiine," she drawled. "But you're not fine. Ann told me how not fine you are. I know things are weird for you, but, but I'm not weird. About you. So don't be weird about me, Brendanawicz. No weirdness allowed!" She'd been meaning to have this talk with him. There was no reason she couldn't still be friends with him, right?  
  
He nodded. "Right. No weirdness."  
  
Great. He totally got it. "Awesome! High five." She raised her hand, and he slapped it with a funny smile on his face.  
  
"You seem pretty drunk," he said.  
  
Leslie grinned. "I know. It's great, right? Hey—is stupid-head Ben watching me, or is he watching Ann. 'Cause I thought he was watching Ann, but she says he's watching me."  
  
Mark raised an eyebrow. "Ben?"  
  
"Yes! Stupid Ben. He's at the bar with Ron." She flailed her arm in Ben's general direction.  
  
"You mean the budget consultant?"  
  
Leslie rolled her eyes. Mark could be so slow sometimes. "Yes. What other stupid Ben do you see?"  
  
Mark gazed at the bar for a few seconds. "You. He's watching you."  
  
"Crap. Maybe he really does want me to dominatrix him." If that's what it took to save Jerry's job, it sooo wasn't worth it.  
  
Mark smiled. "Or maybe he has a bet going on when you'll finally pass out?"  
  
Leslie frowned. "What?"  
  
"You know—I think you're a little too drunk. I was just leaving. How about I give you a ride home?"  
  
She hadn't planned on leaving yet, but she did need to start working out her plans for thwarting creepy, dominatrix-loving Ben. "Sure. Okay." She raised a finger. "But no funny business, Brendanawicz. Ann is still my best friend."  
  
"No funny business. I promise." Mark took her by the elbow, and led her out of the club.  
  
***  
  
For Chris, coming to Pawnee felt like stepping outside after being trapped in a building during a blizzard—a very long blizzard. A social creature by nature, the past several months of seclusion, with no one but Ben and a series of security personnel, U.S. Marshals, and lawyers for company had been very disagreeable. Not that Ben was bad company, but he lacked the joie de vivre that Chris valued in his closest friends. And his paranoia and bitterness had started to grate after a while.   
  
Chris knew that going to the FBI about the misdeeds of George Everson and company had been the right thing to do. He felt genuinely glad that the evidence he and Ben had collected would help put the man and his cronies behind bars for a very long time. However, there had been many times over the past few months when Chris wished that Ben had done the work alone. Doing the right thing shouldn't make life so dreary.  
  
Here in Pawnee, things were finally looking up. Meeting a whole building full of new friends and colleagues all day, and now a party with some of those new friends in a delightful club, had made this one of the best days so far this year.  
  
Granted, starting the night talking to Mark Brendanawicz hadn't been the best way to kick off the evening. The poor man was clearly very broken up by the recent dissolution of his relationship with his girlfriend. Chris had done his best to lift the man's spirits, but there was only so much he could do.  
  
Now, Chris had moved onto a much pleasanter conversation with the lovely Donna Meagles. A true Mercedes Benz enthusiast, she'd been waxing eloquent about both the manufacturer and her own personal vehicle for several minutes when Ben joined them. Ben looked far less jumpy than he had when they first arrived, and even had a hint of a smile on his face. Chris knew a little socialization would be good for his old friend. Perhaps he'd finally start getting over the trauma of the shooting in Atlanta.  
  
After another minute of chatting with Donna, she excused herself to get another drink from the bar.   
  
"Hey—I was thinking I'd like to head home, now," said Ben. He and Chris had driven together.  
  
Chris's face fell. "But the night is just getting started." The last thing Chris wanted right now was another night of restless solitude. He needed socialization. He wilted without it.  
  
"I can give you lift, if you need one," said Ron Swanson, ambling over to join them. " I've had enough of people for tonight."  
  
Chris grinned. Ron was already proving to be a valuable ally. "That would be fantastic, wouldn't it Ben?"  
  
"Yeah. Sure."  
  
After bidding Ron and Ben goodnight, Chris went in search of more of his new colleagues attending April's party. He spotted Tom Haverford at the bar and strolled up. "April's party? April's party?" he asked Tom and the woman seated next to him.  
  
"Hey man! How's it going?" Tom replied.  
  
Before Chris had any time to answer, the woman—a very attractive, petite brunette—rose and grabbed him, grinning. "Heeeey. Come here." She pulled him to a nearby booth.  
  
Chris blinked in surprise, but gladly followed. Chris loved women. Particularly beautiful women. And he'd been deprived of beautiful women for far too long. His mysterious, rather drunken, new companion was undeniably beautiful. Why not indulge her desire for his company?  
  
As soon as they sat down she launched into a rambling story of two different ex boyfriends—one from some time in the past, whom she'd loved, and a more recent ex whom she'd never really loved. It took Chris several minutes to realize that the more recent ex was none other than the poor Mark Brendanawicz.  
  
"Just a moment," he said, interrupting her rambling story. "What did you say your name was, again?"  
  
"Ann Perkins," she said. "And I work at St. Joseph's hospital. I'm a nurse. A damn good one."  
  
Chris grinned. "I'm sure you are, Ann Perkins."  
  
"Thanks." The smile she flashed back at him was enchanting. Her breath, less so. But little things like that could be forgiven.  
  
"What was I saying?" she added, her face lapsing back into a frown.  
  
"You were discussing your recent break-up," replied Chris. "And I agree. You were right to do it. If you didn't love him, there was no point in prolonging things. You deserve better. You deserve the freedom to find your own path to true happiness."  
  
The enchanting grin returned. "Yeah. I do!" She playfully punched him on the arm. "I like you."  
  
Chris grinned back at her. Though he'd very much looked forward to dating again once he learned he'd be living a normal life here in Pawnee instead of being sequestered away in hotels and safe houses, Chris had known that he couldn't get seriously involved with anyone. It wouldn't be fair to draw a woman into a relationship while hiding his true identity, and knowing that he'd be leaving to testify in just six months. However, Ann presented him with a fascinating possibility. A charming, free-spirited, beautiful woman looking for a rebound from her last relationship? She'd be the last person wanting to get serious. And a fun fling with someone like Ann would be just the thing to help round out his social life here in Pawnee.  
  
"I like you, too, Ann Perkins."  
  
***  
  
Ron pulled up to the curb in front of Ben's building and gave him a stern look. "Pawnee is a good place to live. I like it here. I'm sure you'll get used to it, too."  
  
Ben nodded. Ron must still be trying to protect Leslie from potential fallout from her drunken outburst. Ben liked that—these people were loyal to each other. They genuinely cared. That was more than he could say for any of the people he'd worked with at Everson Pharmaceuticals—with the notable exception of Chris. "I'm sure I will. Thanks for the ride home."  
  
He opened the door as swung his legs out of the SUV.  
  
That's when the sound of gunshots broke the still night air.  
  
With a strangled cry, Ben tumbled to the ground and scrambled to take cover beside the SUV, looking around franticly to locate the source of the gunfire. Immediately his heart started racing, and he felt dizzy.  
  
Faintly, Ron's voice broke through the fog forming in his head. "Sorry. It's just my new ringtone. I'll let it go to voicemail."  
  
"What the fuck?" Ben gasped. A ringtone? What the hell was wrong with that man? The damage was already done. Ben's breath came in rapid gasps, and his chest started to ache.  
  
Ron spoke again. "You should know that cars aren't really effective cover against gunfire. Any gun worth a damn can punch right through a vehicle." Then, after a pause, he asked, "Are you all right out there?"  
  
"No!" Ben took a few more rapid breaths before gasping, "I'm having," a few more breaths, "a panic attack!" He sank to the ground, slumping against Ron's SUV, and closed his eyes. "Thanks!" he barked out angrily.  
  
God—after making it through a day surrounded by strange new faces and a night at a dimly lit, crowded club, it just had to be a ringtone that finally did him in. Fears danced and swirled through his mind. He could see the empty eyes of that lawyer, and feel the blood running down his arm all over again.  
  
Ben pursed his lips, trying to slow down his breathing. He heard footsteps approaching, and images of black-clad assassins filled his mind.  
  
 _No. It's just the panic. Pull yourself together._  
  
He focused on his breathing, and forced his eyes open to see Ron crouching in front of him. "Damn. I've heard of panic attacks, but I've never seen one in action before. Sorry about that."  
  
Ben winced at the look of open curiosity on Ron's face, and continued to focus on breathing shallow.   
  
"Would whiskey help? I have some in the back," said Ron.  
  
Ben shook his head and tried really hard not to think about the fact that he'd just trusted the type of man who keeps whiskey in his car to drive him home safely. "I just need . . . a couple . . . of minutes," he wheezed.   
  
Ron turned and leaned back against the SUV, waiting quietly. Ben found that he preferred Ron's mild, detached curiosity to an outpouring of compassion or pity. He didn't want _anyone_ to feel sorry for him. After a few minutes, his heart started to slow down and he regained control of his breathing, though his chest still hurt and he continued to feel dizzy.  
  
"You really need to change that god damned ringtone."  
  
"Will do," replied Ron, still looking bemused. "Need a hand getting up?"  
  
"Please." Ben gripped Ron's outstretched hand and stumbled to his feet. He wobbled a little, and shook his head, trying to clear the dizziness.  
  
Ron's brows knit. "Can you make it to your place all right?"  
  
Ben nodded, shifting his feet to steady himself. "I'll be okay—just give me a minute." He stretched his limbs, still taking slow, shallow breaths. Ron kept on watching, an unreadable expression on his face. Maybe that was Ron's version of "concerned."  
  
"Okay. I think I can make it." Ben took a few steps forward.  
  
A muted clang echoed across the condo parking lot.   
  
Ben yelped, and almost tripped over the curb. His heart sped up again, and he looked around wildly. "What was that?"  
  
"You have raccoons in your dumpster." Ron pointed to the condo complex's communal dumpster across the parking lot. "They run rampant in this part of town. You really should make sure you leave the lid closed."  
  
"They run rampant? Seriously?" Ben peered at the shadowy dumpster, his heart still pounding. A small furry shadow emerged from the bin, leaped to the ground, and scurried away.  
  
"They're the scourge of Pawnee. Living in this part of town, you need to be prepared. I have a handy pest-control tool that I'll give you at work tomorrow, to help out." Ron looked deadly serious.  
  
What the hell was up with this town? Ben was beginning to think it existed in some sort of alternate reality where the worst problems people had to face were budget cuts and raccoons.  
  
If only the real world worked that way.  
  
He straightened up, and took a few tentative steps. He seemed steady enough. "Okay. Well—I think I'm good to make to my place now. Thanks for the ride."  
  
"You're welcome." Ron nodded and headed back to his SUV.  
  
"But make sure and change that ringtone!" Ben called after him. The last thing he needed was a ringtone-triggered panic attack at the office. This one had been bad enough. He just hoped Ron would keep it to himself. No one would respect Ben's authority any more if word about his unfortunate affliction got out.  
  
A slight smile brightened Ron's face. "Will do."  
  
Ben speed-walked back to his condo as Ron drove off. He let himself in and collapsed to his couch.  
  
He ran his fingers through his hair, and sank back into the cushions with a sigh. Staring out the window, he noticed a few more small shadows scurrying around the parking lot. He shook his head. The things really _did_ run rampant around here.  
  
"Welcome to Pawnee," he whispered to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Leslie woke up to find herself slumped over the desk of her home office with post-it-notes stuck to her face. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog and the headache. She had a vague recollection of Mark brining her home, but had no idea what she'd been doing in her office. She pulled the notes off her face and glanced at them.   
  
The handwriting was even worse than usual, but she could still make out her notes. Ideas for streamlining the Parks Department budget. She read them carefully several times, along with the other notes scrawled on her unicorn notepad. Though she didn't remember writing any of them, they were actually really good ideas. With a little number crunching and refining at the office, she might just be able to cobble together a workable plan that would preserve everyone's jobs and cut a substantial portion of the budget all at the same time.   
  
Hah! Even while completely wasted, she could still best mean-Ben.  
  
At least that was the thought she held onto until Ron called her into his office with a deafening roar right after she got into work.  
  
After reminding her of her several loud conversations with Ben, the budget consultant who held her "very fate in his hands like a small bird," he said, "Believe me, I want this budget cut to the bone. But I can't have you getting yourself fired, because then I'll have to do stuff. Go apologize."  
  
"No! I don't have anything to apologize for. All I did was express myself forcefully. Drunkenly." She winced as the memory came back to her. And then creepy-Ben had stared at her all night until she left. What was up with that?   
  
Ron's frown deepened, and he looked like he was about to squeeze his coffee-cup into oblivion. "I had a talk with the man, and he seems a reasonable sort. A little skittish and weak—probably easy to manipulate, but only if you get on his good side. Which you most certainly have not done. Now go apologize and see if you can fix this mess, before he decides to slash half our staff, including you."  
  
Leslie sighed, thinking of the pile of post-its waiting for further refinement on her desk. Ron was probably right. Ben would never listen to her plan unless she went and made amends. She only hoped that going to apologize now wouldn't encourage whatever creepy notions he had in his head about her. Ugh. She really shouldn't have gotten that drunk. If she hadn't, she wouldn't be in this mess.  
  
"Fine, I'll go apologize."  
  
***  
  
Ben felt the beginnings of a smile forming at the corners of his mouth when he saw Leslie walk into the office he shared with Chris. He'd been thinking about her off and on all morning. It was silly, really, to feel so attached to the woman after just two fairly unpleasant encounters, but it had been so very long since someone had been so utterly sincere and unguarded with him—especially in a business setting. There was something different—something special—about her, and he wanted to figure it out. If she'd ever give him a chance.  
  
He waited patiently while she chatted with Chris for a moment and accepted a supplement purported to help with hangovers, and he pretended not to be watching her the whole time. It took physical effort to suppress his smile when he heard her say that she'd come to talk to him, and he forced his face into a bland expression as she approached his table.  
  
"So, I'd like to apologize for yesterday," she said, sitting down.  
  
"Don't worry about it." If only she knew just how refreshing he'd found her open indignation—but he suspected it would be counterproductive to tell her that. He knew that "amused" wasn't the effect she'd been going for when she yelled at him, and he didn't want to piss her off again.  
  
"No. What I did was out of line. Twice. And I was worked up because obviously you represent a threat to my department."  
  
There she went again, caring more about her department than about her own job. He felt almost obligated to wake her up to the precarious realities of the situation she faced. "You do need to realize that your mayor and your city council are the real threats to your department. We're here to get them back in line—"  
  
"Look, Ben," she said with the same fiery glint in her eyes as both times she'd mouthed off at him before, "I don't appreciate your callous attitude, okay."  
  
"Really?" He hadn't thought he sounded particularly callous that time. Maybe it was a force of habit, by now.  
  
"Yeah. Really. You may hold my fate in your hand like a small bird, but I still think you're an ass."  
  
Ben didn't think he'd ever heard a more ridiculous or inflammatory string of words uttered with such earnest sincerity in his life. Was this woman for real? And if she was, how exactly did someone like her come into being?  
  
Since he had no response to the substance of her complaints, he said the first thing that popped into his mind. "Do you want to get a beer?"   
  
So no, Ben hadn't come here to make friends. Especially not with a woman who had practically proclaimed from the rooftops that she intended to be a royal pain in his ass for the next six months. But he also didn't want to spend his whole time in Pawnee looking over his shoulder for hit men and having ill-timed panic attacks (was there such a thing as a _well-timed_ panic attack?). So far, this bizarrely passionate and idealistic bureaucrat was the best distraction from his troubles that he'd found. If he could somehow make Leslie his friend, or at least his "frenemy," she'd be certain to liven up his stay in Pawnee.  
  
"It's 10:30 in the morning," she said, looking more than a little taken aback.  
  
"Yeah," he said, playing it cool, even though he knew just how bizarre his suggestion must sound to her. "You seem like you could use a beer." He closed the folder he'd been looking at and rose to his feet. "Let's get a beer."  
  
Looking more than a little befuddled, Leslie shrugged and rose to follow him. Good. Finally a chance to get away from Chris and his constant exercise breaks. Time to find out if he could win over Leslie Knope.  
  
***  
  
Leslie couldn't quite believe what she was doing. She hadn't unraveled how her apology had turned into insulting Ben again, and then transitioned into following Ben along the two block walk to Sullivan's for beers before 11 am. On top of that, she couldn't decide if she still thought of him as a jerk, or creepy, or maybe just a little odd.  
  
Ben kept glancing around the street with a meek, almost-scared expression on his face, and actually jumped a little when cars sped by too quickly. He looked about ready to lose his lunch when Bob Guntz of Bob's Big and Tall Emporium came out of a shop as they passed by, but seemed to ease up a little when Leslie greeted Bob with a cheery hello and a compliment on his latest commercial. Leslie decided that Ron's description of Ben as "skittish" was very apt.  
  
Ben finally relaxed when they took their seats on corner stools at the bar in Sullivan's and ordered a couple of beers. After a long pull on her bottle, Leslie sighed. Nothing helped a hangover like more alcohol. Or avoiding getting drunk in the first place, but it was too late for that. "Mmm. Wow, that tastes really good."  
  
Ben nodded. "How's your head?"  
  
"Mushy." Maybe Ron was right. Maybe Ben wasn't a bad guy, after all. But certainly not normal. A normal person would hate her by now for the way she'd been treating him. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. All three times. But I don't think you know anything about my department. Have you ever been part of a government body before?"  
  
That should have been an easy question to answer—a straight forward yes or no. But Ben opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking down at his beer. "I—dabbled in government a little when I was younger and more idealistic," he said.  
  
Which made no sense. How could someone "dabble" in government? And he totally just admitted that he'd lost all sense of idealism—not a good sign for her budget plans. Did he also imply that she was _too_ idealistic? He might have. There was certainly something off in his tone. And the way he blinked too much and had trouble meeting her eyes. He was holding something back. But why? He looked awfully familiar all of a sudden . . .  
  
Leslie didn't have time to fully process the feeling of familiarity before he started speaking again, this time giving her a direct gaze. "But I have had a ton of experience managing tricky budgets in the private sector. I know what I'm doing, and I'm good at my job. And I don't disrespect you or your department. I believe that what you do is important. But you need to understand that I was hired to solve a serious problem, and that means that every single department in the government will be facing cuts—not just yours. We're not singling you out, or trying to persecute you. This is what responsible budgeting is all about. Sometimes you have to make tough choices. Sometimes you have to be harsh."  
  
"But what _you_ need to understand is that we—the government of Pawnee—are here to provide valuable and enriching services to our citizens. That's our number one function." God, she wanted to start yelling at him again. If only he wasn't talking in such a reasonable tone of voice.  
  
"Yes," he agreed, "but you won't be able to fill that function if your government goes bankrupt. Which, by the way, it's very close to doing."   
  
Leslie looked down at her hands. She hadn't realized things were that bad.  
  
"I mean," he said, lifting his beer, "you want to run for office someday, don't you?"  
  
She knit her brows and watched him take a drink. "Yeah. How'd you know?" It's not like she walked around wearing a badge that read: Leslie Knope, future Governor of Indiana. Although maybe she should start.  
  
"Well, you have to be able to make tough choices like these if people are going to take you seriously in elected office. You have to prove that you're responsible. Last night, you mentioned coming up with your own budget plan, and I think that's a great idea."  
  
Leslie frowned. "Really?" Why was he being so nice to her with all the helpful advice all of a sudden? If he kept this up, it would be hard to keep hating him.   
  
"Really," he replied. "Learn how to be responsible with the taxpayer's money, and prove it to us and to Paul. That'll do a hell of a lot more for your department than yelling at us." He took another drink.  
  
She felt her face getting warm, and she looked away to take a sip of her own beer. She suddenly felt very small. He probably didn’t mean to have a condescending tone, but he did. His words made her feel like a small-town rube with no idea how to run a real budget. Maybe she could keep on hating him, after all. She clenched her teeth. She'd show him. She'd finish her plan today, and prove to him that she was every bit as good at making the tough choices as he was.  
  
"Fine. I'll do that."  
  
They finished their beers in near silence, and Ben pulled some cash out of his wallet to pay for both.  
  
Leslie waved her hand in protest and pulled out her credit card.  
  
"It's just three dollars," said Ben. "It's my pleasure, really."  
  
"No—I insist on covering my own tab." Leslie stood firm.  
  
Ben finally shrugged and let her pay for her own beer, but he looked a little disappointed. Hah. So he'd been trying to win her over to his side, and she'd just smacked him down. Leslie felt a small thrill of triumph at that prospect. That meant that her opinion mattered to him. She was more than just a face in the crowd at city hall. Maybe that would make her task easier—if he cared what she thought, perhaps he'd be more willing to listen to her plans.   
  
As they stood to leave, Leslie formulated a new goal. She wasn't just going to save as much of her department as possible—she was going to prove to Ben and Chris just how important the Parks services really were, and win them over to her side. "Operation: Impress the Consultants" was officially under way. (She'd come up with a better name, later.)  
  
While they strolled back to city hall, Leslie asked the question that had been nagging for most of her meeting with Ben. "Hey—you look really familiar. Have we ever met before this week?"  
  
If she thought he looked skittish on their walk to Sullivan's, now he looked ready to bolt into the nearest hole, like a prairie dog catching sight of a hawk.  
  
He coughed. "Uh—no. No. Definitely not. I would have remembered meeting you."  
  
Leslie narrowed her eyes. Now he looked more familiar than ever. "Are you sure? I feel like it must have been a long time ago. Maybe in college? Did you go to Indiana State?"  
  
"Nope. No. Didn't go to school anywhere in Indiana. You must be mistaking me for someone else." He shoved his hands in his pockets and picked up his pace, covering the last block to city hall so quickly that Leslie could barely keep up.  
  
He said goodbye with a quick wave and a nod of his head as soon as they reached the building, and took off toward his office like he was scared she'd start chasing him.  
  
Skittish, just like Ron had said. And odd. Very odd.  
  
***  
  
Ben's heart raced as he hurried back to his office. He sighed with relief when he found that Chris had stepped out. He needed some peace and privacy to get over his shock.  
  
The conversation with Leslie had gone well. Or at least well-ish. She might not trust his opinions yet, but there were signs that she was open to the possibility of working amicably with him. He felt good about the progress he'd made with her—that's why it blindsided him when she mentioned recognizing him.  
  
Most of the news stories featuring Ben and Chris had been in the Atlanta media, but a few of the national news media stories on the Everson trial had mentioned them. Ben knew that being recognized was a legitimate possibility when he agreed to enter the Federal Witness Protection Program. It seemed preferable to another six months stashed away in secured hotels. But he knew going in that if their cover was blown, they'd be whisked away to start over somewhere else.  
  
This couldn't be happening already. They'd only just settled in. Leave it to Leslie Knope to be so on top of the news that she remembered his face.  
  
He closed his eyes against the headache he could feel rising in his forehead. He leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to parse Leslie's words. She'd said she thought they'd met during college—a long time ago.  
  
Maybe . . . No. It couldn't be. It was too absurd.  
  
But this _was_ Leslie Knope. If anyone still remembered teen mayor Benji Adams, it would be Leslie. That's just the sort of thing that would have excited her back then.  
  
One way or another, he hoped she'd never put two and two together. Pawnee might be strange, but he wasn't ready to move again.   
  
***  
  
Chris loved solving problems and helping people—that's why the Pawnee job felt absolutely ideal for him. Today alone he'd helped tackle several budgetary conundrums for the good folks of Pawnee city government, and the coming weeks looked to be full of many more problems to solve.  
  
One problem that he hadn't yet solved, however, was how to get back in touch with the lovely Ann Perkins. He literally couldn't wait to see her again. He'd been carrying around her cell phone all day, and had used it to dial her home number several times, but she hadn't answered. And when he tried calling St. Joseph's, they said she had the day off.  
  
Fortunately, his next meeting of the day was with some of Ann's friends from the Parks Department. And, to his delight, he found Ann sitting in the waiting area along with them.  
  
"Well, fancy this," he said. "Um, I have meetings all day but I'd love to chat with you. Can I call you?"  
  
"You—have my phone number?" she seemed surprised. But he couldn't blame her—she had been quite extremely drunk. Though still very charming.  
  
"No," he replied brightly, reaching into his pocket. "You couldn't remember your phone number. But you gave me your phone."  
  
"Terrific," she said, as he handed over her phone. "That's great. We'll talk later." She looked just as beautiful as he remembered. He truly hoped that the sober incarnation of Ann would be just as interested in dating him as the drunk version had been.  
  
"Okay," he said cheerily, then sang, " _Danger zone_ ," with a teasing grin. He hadn't been so entertained by karaoke in years. Maybe they could go to another karaoke night together sometime—it would be stupendous.  
  
Yes—Pawnee seemed perfectly ideal. Literally the best place to spend his time until the trial.  
  
He headed into the meeting with Leslie Knope and Ron Swanson. Once they'd seated themselves at the table with Ben, Ron lifted a small duffle bag. "I brought that pest control tool I mentioned to help you deal with your raccoon problem," he said.  
  
"Oh, great," replied Ben. "There really are a lot of them."  
  
"You have no idea," said Ron, unzipping the duffle.  
  
Chris had noticed the unusually high concentration of raccoons in the area, but he hadn't thought of them as a problem, per se. Just a local quirk.  
  
Ron reached into his duffle, and pulled out a pistol.  
  
With a startled cry, Ben leaped to his feet.  
  
"Good god, Ron—why did you bring a weapon into a government building?" said Chris stepping forward, shocked. Wasn't there some sort of law against this? Poor Ben—Chris was sure Ron hadn't meant any harm, but Ben still hadn't gotten over the shooting, and this sort of thing was bad for his nerves.  
  
Ron leveled a glare at him. "It's an air gun. But even if it wasn't, I'm licensed to own and carry guns, and it would be perfectly within my rights as an American to bring my weapon to work."  
  
Chris knit his brows and rested his hands on his hips. He hadn't reviewed Indiana guns laws before moving here, but that couldn't be right—could it? "Really?"  
  
Leslie nodded. "He's right, Chris. And Ron wouldn't hurt a soul. You two have nothing to worry about."  
  
"Mmm," rumbled Ron.  
  
"Well. Okay. Sorry about that," said Ben, easing back into his chair. "So this is your anti-raccoon tool?" He eyed the gun warily.  
  
"Oh, yeah," said Leslie approvingly. "Nothing makes a raccoon run away faster than a few BBs to the butt. Good call, Ron."  
  
Chris had never approved of firearms. He supposed he could see the appeal of target shooting. But hunting? Completely distasteful. And the thought of people casually carrying weapons and keeping them in their homes disturbed him.  
  
"I dislike such blasé discussion of animal cruelty, and I would prefer if you put that thing away, Ron."  
  
Ron frowned, but slid the gun back into the duffel.  
  
"I don't know, Chris. If the raccoons are really as much of a nuisance as they say they are, an air gun might be worth a try," said Ben.  
  
Chris's eyebrows shot up. "Ben—I can't believe that you, of all people, would condone such casual use of a weapon." Really, after what they'd been through, Ben ought to know better.  
  
Ben opened his mouth, but held back from saying whatever was on his mind. He closed his mouth again and tapped the table a few times with his fingers. Chris had known Ben long enough to recognize that expression on his face. The expression that said: _I'm going to stubbornly ignore any suggestions you have to make, but I refuse to have a mature discussion with you about it_. He was going into passive-aggressive mode. Chris sighed.  
  
Ben glanced back at Ron. "How about I come pick it up from you at the end of the day? We should get on with our meeting."  
  
Ron nodded brusquely. "No problem."  
  
Leslie pulled a sheaf of papers out of her padfolio and started handing them around. Her budget ideas were a welcome change of topics after the gun fiasco, but Chris knew he'd have to deal with it again this evening—and just when he'd been looking forward to a pleasant phone conversation with Ann Perkins, instead.  
  
Leslie's worksheets were clear and easy to follow. She'd done a wonderful job of organizing spending priorities and making practical, deep cuts. Which is why Chris later regretted his response to her presentation (If only the gun-thing hadn't peeved him so much. It threw him completely off his game.) "Wow, Leslie, this is amazing. But it's moot."  
  
"What?" She stared at him, startled. "Why?"  
  
"Our investigation has revealed that things in Pawnee are much worse than we anticipated."  
  
"Meaning what?" asked Ron.  
  
"Effective tomorrow morning," replied Ben, "we are instituting a government-wide spending freeze. Any services or projects not already paid for are being postponed indefinitely, and most non-essential personnel are being put on unpaid administrative leave until we've reworked the entire city budget."  
  
Leslie froze, and shook her head a little. "I'm sorry, I just started hearing loud circus music in my head. What did you say?"  
  
 _Oh dear_ , thought Chris, _upsetting Ann's friend is not the best way to win her over._  
  
***  
  
Leslie stormed out of the room almost before Ben had a chance to get to his feet. He'd been dreading this meeting all afternoon for precisely this reason. As soon as the decision to implement the spending freeze had been made, he'd known it would upset Leslie—and right when he'd finally starting building a rapport with her.  
  
 _Why does her opinion matter so much?_  
  
He pushed that thought aside for another time and followed her out into the hall. "Leslie. Leslie, slow down." He speed-walked after her, marveling at just how far her short legs had already carried her.  
  
She spun to face him, a manic look on her face. "Why? Why did you spend all that time this morning buttering me up and encouraging me to make my own plan if you were just going to shoot it down? My first impression of you was right—you really are an ass."  
  
"We didn't finalize the decision for the spending freeze until after lunch," he insisted, knowing that his words would likely fall on deaf ears. "And your plan will still be a very valuable guide for us as we examine the Parks budget as part of the overall city budget. But we can't look at your budget in isolation. Things are more complicated than that—"  
  
"No," said Leslie, stomping her foot. "Things are perfectly simple. You set me up to fail. That's all there is to it. Well you and your stupid budget can go to hell!" She turned and strode away. This time, he let her go.  
  
Ben sighed and leaned against the wall. When the marshals had first proposed this job opportunity, it had sounded like a wonderful change of pace from his work at Everson Pharmaceutical. None of the high pressure and constant conflict that came from the unenviable position of auditing his fellow workers. Not to mention an escape from the corruption and intimidation.  
  
It was just a small-town budget and a over-zealous small-town bureaucrat. It shouldn't matter one bit. He should be able to slash and cut and move on with his life without looking back.  
  
So why did everything suddenly feel so personal? It was like Partridge all over again.  
  
He knew he should tell the marshals that Leslie recognized him and get the hell out of Pawnee before he got any more involved. But he also knew that he wouldn't. Something about this place—and that woman—made him want to be Benji Adams all over again.  
  
***  
  
Ben leaned back in his chair, pointed the air pistol at the empty glass sitting on the counter, and pulled the trigger. A puff of air left the chamber with a now-familiar _whoosh_. He'd already practiced on targets around the condo complex, and succeeded in driving off a gang of five raccoons the previous night. There had been something deeply gratifying about seeing the creatures scuttle off in fear. For once, he was the one inspiring terror instead of feeling it.  
  
Idly he pumped up the air pressure again, and took aim at the television. Though the gun was empty of ammo, pulling the trigger still helped him blow off steam.  
  
It had been five days since they implemented the spending freeze and sent the non-essential employees packing, and his relationship with Leslie had been steadily deteriorating ever since.  
  
When he informed her and Ron that Ron would be staying on as part of the Emergency Budget Task Force, and that she would be staying on to supervise existing park and facility maintenance, she'd looked like she wanted to slap him.  
  
Things had gotten worse with every request he had to deny and every question he had to answer with a negative. Yesterday, when he'd tried to explain to her that he loved the idea of a children's concert series but that he simply couldn't make a spending exception for her department, she'd looked like she could shoot fire bolts out of her eyes and blow him off the face of the earth.   
  
At least he was getting along with Ron.  
  
When Ben shifted the gun to target his roommate's bicycle, Chris scowled at him and looked ready to launch into another anti-gun lecture when the doorbell rang. _Thank god_.  
  
Chris rose from the couch to answer. "Marshall Lewis! Marshall Burdette! So good to see you."  
  
The marshals stepped inside, and Lewis said, "We're just dropping in to check on you guys and to see how your first week at the new job went."  
  
"It went fantastic," said Chris. "The people of Pawnee literally could not be more welcoming."  
  
Except for the woman Chris was chasing. She hadn't seemed particularly welcoming, yet. It gave Ben some small satisfaction that Chris was just as frustrated by a woman right now as he was.  
  
Burdette looked over at Ben. "Is that an air gun?"  
  
"Yep. I'm borrowing it from a friend."  
  
Chris's frown returned. "I've told him over and over again that I'm uncomfortable having that thing in the house, but he refuses to listen. He keeps waving it around like it's some sort of toy."  
  
After days of lectures, that was the last straw. "You're right, Chris. I'm sick of toys. Maybe it's time I trade it in for the real thing."  
  
"Now wait just a minute—" Chris wagged his pointer finger.  
  
"Maybe you should," said Burdette.  
  
Ben and Chris both looked at her in surprise.  
  
She shrugged. "I was just thinking a little self-defense training might be good for you." She directed her comment at Ben. "See, my bosses want you to go to a therapist before you get any meds for that little problem of yours, but they haven't approved any of the local therapists yet. But maybe if you get some gun training and a carry permit it'll work just as well as therapy—y'know, confronting your fears, and all that. I'm sure I could grease the wheels at the local police department to get you a permit right away."  
  
Chris stared at her, his mouth hanging open. "You can't be serious."  
  
"Sure I am." She folded her arms across her chest and stared him down. "Lots of people in the program feel more comfortable when they're properly equipped to defend themselves." She turned back to Ben. "This is small town America—you shouldn't have any trouble finding someone who can teach you how to use a gun. And if you decide you want to buy your own, just call me and I'll make sure the police get you a permit under your new name right away."  
  
Ben hadn't been serious when he made his crack at Chris, but now that he thought about it, there really would be something comforting about having the means to defend himself. Maybe Burdette had a point. Not to mention he wouldn't mind needling Chris a little more—he was starting to get seriously tired of the man. Being his friend and colleague had been easy—living with him for months on end, not so much.  
  
He nodded. "Okay. I'll think about it."  
  
From the look on Chris's face, he could tell that Chris would find a way to make him pay for this. And he did—the very next day.  
  
When the EBTF meeting turned to potential staff cuts in the Parks Department, Chris immediately suggested Leslie. "She has the second highest salary in the department," he said. "Cutting her would go a long way toward preserving most of the Parks programs."  
  
Ben clenched his jaw. Chris knew full well that Ben had taken on Leslie as a pet-project, of sorts. But he needed to counter the suggestion with logic, not emotion, or he'd never succeed in overruling Chris's proposal. He was about to offer cutting Jerry Gergich and his looming pension as a viable alternative to laying off Leslie when Ron beat him to the punch.  
  
"No, no, no," said Ron. "If you fire Leslie, you might as well just get rid of the whole department."  
  
"I know how valuable she is," replied Chris, "but we're running out of options."  
  
"There are plenty of options. We could sell the zoo animals."  
  
Even Ben raised his eyebrows at this. "To whom?"  
  
Ron spread his hands. "Cosmetics labs? Weird restaurants? I'm just spit-balling here."  
  
"Or, for a less creepy option," said Ben, "we could fire Jerry."  
  
Ron pointed at Ben and nodded. "Yes. We could fire Jerry."  
  
"I still think Leslie is a better option," insisted Chris.  
  
Both Ben and Ron glared at him.  
  
Ron rose to his feet, gesturing emphatically. "I'm telling you, it's just not an option."  
  
Ben hadn't yet seen Ron speak this passionately about anything. It was actually kind of moving.  
  
"Because of my Libertarian beliefs, Leslie does 95% of the work. You should lay me off. I'd be proud to be a casualty in this righteous war."  
  
Ben rubbed his forehead. He didn't want to lay off Ron any more than he wanted to lay off Leslie. "It's precisely because of your beliefs that we need to keep you. You would maintain fiscal responsibility after we're gone."  
  
"I strenuously object—"  
  
Chris interrupted. "No, Ron. We're moving on. Every department is losing a Leslie Knope."  
  
Wait a minute—this discussion was far from over.  
  
Once again, Ron beat Ben to the punch when it came time to object. "No, they aren't. No other department has one to begin with. Right now, she's single-handedly putting on some lousy concert for the city's kids."  
  
Ben's eyebrows shot up. "She's doing what?" Great. Right when he was about to defend her job, she just had to go and do something that would almost certainly get her fired.  
  
***  
  
So far, Operation Roaring Falcon had been a resounding failure. Okay, so it was kind of Leslie's fault for telling Ben to go to hell when he was trying, in his own backwards, stupid way, to apologize for not warning her in advance about the spending freeze.  
  
She'd been trying to balance things out by being extra nice to Chris, and taking her concerns to him. But every time an actual decision needed to be made, Chris would shuffle her along to Ben. Did Chris even know _how_ to make decisions? Other than the decision to ask Ann out at least once a day? (There _had_ to be a way to exploit his attraction to Ann. Leslie just hadn't figured it out yet.)  
  
And every time Leslie made a request to Ben, he'd shower her with a few encouraging platitudes, as if he were talking to a middle-schooler who wanted to try a science fair project that was way beyond her capabilities, and then shot her down. The Freddy Spaghetti concert had been the last straw. Leslie had been on the verge of breaking before that, but when Ben praised her intentions and then smashed her hopes, all Leslie needed was a little encouragement from Ann to take things into her own hands.  
  
It had been going amazingly well. The vendors were quick to donate, her friends arrived en masse to help set up, and everything looked like it would come off without a hitch. Until Ben showed up—Leslie's personal bad-luck charm.  
  
First, he insisted on shutting down the concert, giving her some sort of look, as if she could read his mind and get more out of his words then he was actually saying. Then, Freddy Spaghetti took the gig in Eagleton. And then, with the screeching of tires and the breaking of bones, her back up plan had fallen to pieces.  
  
So, instead of impressing the budget consultants with her cost-conscious, kid-pleasing concert, she stood on a stage in front of a crowd of eager kids and their parents, ready to fall flat on her face with failure.  
  
But the show must go on.  
  
With a weak grin she swallowed her nerves and started to sing. "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands." She noted Chris, standing in the back of the crowd, smiling and clapping. Okay. So maybe she'd managed to impress at least _one_ budget consultant. "If you're happy and you know it—"  
  
"Clap your hands!" warbled a familiar voice from behind her. She turned in astonishment to see Freddy Spaghetti bounding onto the stage.  
  
Her jaw hung open for a moment, and she covered the mic. "Hey, I thought you were playing in Eagleton?" she said to the curly-haired performer.  
  
Freddy leaned toward her, covering his own mic. "All I know is this guy showed up and made me a much better offer. And I am all about the money, baby."  
  
Leslie looked to see who Freddy meant, and saw Ben standing beside the stage, a slight smile on his face. What the—?  
  
She hustled off stage to let Freddy start his performance, and took a place by Ben's side, watching Freddy but stealing glances at Ben out of the corner of her eye. What exactly was she supposed to say? And how was she supposed to feel right now?  
  
He didn't seem in any hurry to prod her into conversation, which made her even more confused. Was stupid, condescending Ben really nice, after all? She glanced up at him again. He watched Freddy's performance with a little half-smile on his face, like he was actually enjoying it. This close to him, she could see just how deep brown his eyes were. And why hadn't she noticed how great his hair was before now? Her innards started doing flip-flops that weren't at all unpleasant. He might be a condescending ass, but he was a _cute_ condescending ass.  
  
Okay—she had to stop those thoughts _right now_.  
  
She turned to him. "Why did you do this?"  
  
He looked down at her with that annoying look on his face that was becoming all-too-familiar. That look that said he knew something she didn't, and he didn't plan on sharing. "Well, contrary to what you seem determined to believe, I'm not a monster. I want the kids to have their concert. And, frankly, I didn't like seeing your plans fall apart." He took a deep breath. "I like you, Leslie. I think you're a good person. And I wanted you to succeed. So I helped."  
  
The flip-flops started again. _Oh boy_. But even when he was being nice, he was still a little condescending—making it sound like he was some sort of white knight coming to the rescue of the damsel in distress. Still, it was nice to hear him call her a "good person." She liked to think she was, but that wasn't the sort of thing you got outside confirmation on very often.  
  
"So, mean-Ben has a soft spot."  
  
He smiled, but his eyes looked a little pained. "Is that what you guys call me? Mean Ben?"  
  
She tried to laugh it off. "No, no, no." Ugh. But she had. Too many times. She shook her head. "Why do you keep trying to be nice to me, when all I do is yell at you? I don't get it."  
  
He shrugged. "Well, I've spent the last few years around a lot of really cynical, jaded, selfish people. I started to think that's what most people were like. But you're different. Pretty much the opposite, actually. And I really like that."  
  
Leslie nibbled on her bottom lip and looked down at her feet. Those flip-flops were back again.  
  
"I guess," he continued, "I wish I could be more like you." He took a deep breath. "Do you think we could maybe call a truce? Maybe try being friends?"  
  
She looked back up to meet his gaze, and his hopeful smile sent her flip-flops into high speed. "Sure. Friends." She extended her hand, and he shook it. His hand was warm and smooth (but not _too_ smooth, like Tom's). She found herself holding on a little longer than was strictly necessary.  
  
Quickly she pulled her hand back, and slid it into her pocket. "Well. Thanks for this."  
  
"You're welcome." He looked back at Freddy for a moment, and then met her eyes again. "This is really great, today. But there's gonna be a lot of pain ahead, Leslie. We have to cut 32 percent of the—"  
  
"Just—stop it. Okay. Just for one moment enjoy the fact that you provided a service for people. Not a cut. A service. And they love it."  
  
He grinned wryly. "The biggest service was getting you to stop singing."  
  
God—was he actually flirting with her? "Just to be clear," she said, "are you hitting on me?"  
  
His smile vanished and his forehead scrunched up. "What? I didn't—I wasn't—I—I—I wouldn't—you know. No. No."  
  
She smiled and shook her head. That sounded like a definite "maybe" to her. Did she _want_ him to hit on her? Cute but condescending. Hmm. She'd have to go for "undecided" on that one. "Okay. Good. Well. I'll see you around."  
  
"See you."  
  
She walked off into the crowd, leaving Ben behind.  
  
***  
  
Ben stood back and watched Leslie moving through the crowd, greeting familiar faces, and occasionally singing along with the songs. He pondered her question— _had_ he been hitting on her? He hadn't been consciously thinking of her like that. She was certainly pretty and vivacious. He liked her a lot. But he was in no position to think about dating right now. A one night stand or brief fling, maybe. But not dating. And Leslie was definitely a dating kind of girl—not the other kind.  
  
He sighed. Maybe if he'd been here under different circumstances it would have been nice. Right now, however, friendship would be just as nice.  
  
Chris strolled up to him. "Wonderful event, isn't it?"  
  
Ben nodded. "Yeah. Leslie sure knows how to throw a party—if you're six years old."  
  
Chris chuckled. He rocked on his feet a little. "I'm sorry. For pressing so hard to lay off Leslie. I know you like her."  
  
Ben shrugged and nodded. "I know it makes sense on paper—but—"  
  
"But numbers aren't everything." Chris said.  
  
"Yeah. Everson taught me that. To him, an extra $500 million in profits meant more than fourteen kids dying of cancer. It was all just a numbers game. But you can't live your life based on numbers alone. You have to look at the people, too." Ben's chest felt tight as he looked around the field full of happy kids, and the smiling woman who'd made their day. "I don't want to lay her off."  
  
"Okay." Chris reached up and patted Ben on the shoulder. "Let's make sure we don't have to."  
  
Ben gazed out at the crowd again. "Do you ever get the feeling like Pawnee isn't part of the real world? Like maybe we've stepped inside a movie, or a TV show, without knowing it?"  
  
Chris grinned thoughtfully. "The quaint small town where troubled strangers come to seek solace from their worries. Yes. This does feel a little like a movie."  
  
Ben had been thinking more along the lines of the zany small town where a cast of colorful characters drove the big-city hero up the wall, but ended up making him feel welcome and happy anyway. But it worked either way.  
  
A few minutes later, Ben worked his way around the outside of the crowd until he found Ron.  
  
"Hey," he said. "Sorry about what happened in the meeting this afternoon."  
  
Ron raised his eyebrows and leveled a gaze at Ben. "So did my protests sink in?"  
  
Ben smiled. "We don't plan on firing Leslie, if that's what you mean."  
  
"Good." Ron nodded and looked back at the stage.  
  
Ben coughed. "And, just for the record, I never wanted to fire her. That was Chris's idea."  
  
"Of course it was." Ron's eyes remained steady on Freddy, and Ben thought he detected a hint of a smile around Ron's mouth.  
  
"I have kind of a weird question for you," said Ben.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
Ben shuffled his feet. He'd been thinking about this ever since his talk with Marshal Burdette, and he'd made up his mind. "Will you teach me how to use a gun?"  
  
Ron looked back at Ben, meeting his eyes. "It would be my pleasure. On one condition."  
  
"Name it."  
  
"Let me take over Leslie's job. I'll handle park and facility maintenance. Let her be on the budget task force. She's better at that crap than I am."  
  
Ben smiled. Leslie was sure to be a daily pain in the ass at EBTF meetings, but she'd also be a welcome breath of fresh air. "Sure. Why not?"  
  
Ron reached forward and shook his hand. "Then you've got yourself a deal."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was originally published on LiveJournal in Nov 2011

Ben should have known going in that calling a truce with Leslie wouldn't eliminate heated debates in the EBTF meetings. Should have—but didn't. So he was temporarily taken aback when, on her first day of taking Ron's place on the task force, Leslie turned what should have been a five minute discussion on a line-item regarding the allocation of funds for pot-hole repair into a forty-five minute debate on the relative merits of pot-hole and crack repair vs. more regular repaving. Clearly, parks weren't the only aspect of city governance that she took a keen interest in.  
  
By the end of the day, when they'd only covered one-third of the agenda for the day, in large part due to Leslie's addition to the meetings, Ben felt a few twinges of regret over making his deal with Ron. On the other hand, Leslie had brought some much needed human perspective to the otherwise dollars and cents-heavy discussion. And on the several occasions where she seemed about ready to call him names again, she'd bitten back the insults. That counted as progress, didn't it?  
  
After the meeting broke up, Ben pulled Leslie aside. "Hey," he said, "I'm sorry for overruling you on the whole road kill clean-up thing. I really do understand your position, but I can't support you on everything you want just because we're friends. And everyone else agreed that eliminating the road kill clean-up service and reallocating the funds to snow removal is the best course of action."  
  
He could tell from the hard glint in her eyes and the downturned corners of her mouth that he should have left well enough alone, instead of trying to apologize.  
  
"So you're honestly going to leave citizens with the choice of letting raccoon carcasses rot on their roadsides or cleaning up the corpses themselves?"  
  
There was no safe answer to this one, so Ben stuck with the truth. "Um—yes."  
  
Leslie's eyes narrowed, and she pointed a finger at him, clutching her padfolio in her other hand with a death-grip. "You are just—You don't—That is really—I—" She stopped herself and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She dropped her hand to her side and he thought he heard her muttering, "One thousand. Nine hundred ninety three. Nine hundred eighty six. Nine hundred seventy nine. . ."  
  
Ben raised his eyebrows and waited for a minute as she continued counting down. Finally she sighed, and opened her eyes again. "I'm going to go make brownies," she said. "I really need some brownies right now."  
  
"Okayyy." He stepped out of her way as she moved to leave the meeting room. Before she made it to the door, something occurred to him. "Leslie?"  
  
She stopped and looked over her shoulder. "Yeah?"  
  
He stepped closer to her, hoping he was adding things up correctly. "Is there a particular raccoon carcass that's been bothering you lately?"  
  
She shuffled her feet and looked at the ground before mumbling, "It's on the street that leads out of my neighborhood. Its little paws are sticking up in the air, and it stares at me every time I drive past." She raised her empty hand like a little curved paw and stared blankly ahead.   
  
"Ah." Ben nodded, smiling at her impression of a raccoon carcass. "Well. That explains a few things. Um . . ." He sucked on his bottom lip a little and tapped his fingers against his thigh while pondering this new problem. Just how badly did he want to impress Leslie? And what would it take to get her to back down from making the whole budgeting process take three times as long as necessary? "Well, since we're both citizens of Pawnee, maybe we could do a little service for the community and—and we could dispose of the carcass ourselves?"  
  
Leslie's jaw dropped, and she stared at him like he'd gone insane. Not that he could blame her. Less than two weeks in this town, and he was already certifiable.  
  
"Uh—it would, uh, be a good way to evaluate the true value of the road kill clean-up budget in a hands on way." He fumbled for the words to make himself sound less crazy.  
  
Still looking slightly flummoxed, she said, "All right. I guess we could do that."  
  
"Really?" Crap. Now he actually had to go through with it. How exactly did one go about cleaning up after a dead raccoon?  
  
"Yeah. Do you have any supplies?"  
  
"Uh . . ." He mentally ran down the list of items he might need for the gruesome task. "No. I haven't got much beyond furniture for the condo yet. Uh—do you have shovels, and trash bags? Maybe a tarp—?"  
  
She nodded. "Yep. I think I have everything that we'll need. But we'll have to use your car. My trunk is full."  
  
He nodded slowly. Of course her trunk was full. Sure. _I'm an idiot. What the hell is it about this woman that makes me do crazy things?_ First paying for that perverted children's singer out of his own bank account (the dude made sex jokes the entire drive from Eagleton), and now scraping up raccoon corpses. What would he do for her next? It was hard to imagine anything crazier, but he felt virtually certain that something weirder than this was bound to come along.  
  
"Do you want to do this tonight?" she asked.  
  
He might as well get it over with. "Yeah. Sure. Why not. I just need to finish a few things, and I can come over around seven. Would that work for you?"  
  
"Yep." She nodded. "Okay. I'll email you directions to my house, and we'll meet up then. To clean up road kill. I never thought I'd utter that sentence."  
  
He laughed. "Yes. Yeah. Okay. Well, I'll see you then."  
  
She smiled and left the room. Ben sighed and rubbed his face.  
  
Insane. Definitely insane.  
  
***  
  
After finishing another day of budget meetings, Chris walked with determined purpose through the corridors of city hall. He'd noticed the resident shoe-shiner sitting morosely at his stand with a cast on his arm earlier in day, and he was determined to lift the fellow's spirits.  
  
Sure enough, the rugged-looked man sat on one of his shoe-shining chairs, a frown on his face, dangling a rainbow-colored slinky from his uninjured hand and bouncing it lazily up and down.  
  
"Hello, friend!" said Chris. "I don't think we've been properly introduced yet. I am Chris Traeger." He still loved the sound of that name. Maybe he'd make the change permanent.  
  
"Andy Dwyer," replied the shoe-shiner, giving his slinky a little flip. "Want your shoes shined? They don't turn out as good when I do it one-handed, but I think I'm getting the hang of it."  
  
"Andy Dwyer," repeated Chris, pointing at the younger man. "So good to meet you, and no, thank you. I didn't come here for a shoe shine. I came to talk to you."  
  
Andy raised his eyebrows. "Really? Cause I'm not in a great mood right now. So if you don't want to get bummed out, you might not want to stick around."  
  
"Your bad mood is precisely why I sought you out." Chris stepped up on the shoe-shine stand and took the seat next to Andy. He'd thought the injury was the only thing bringing Andy's spirits down, but clearly there was more going on here. "You may know by now that I am one of the budget consultants brought in to help fix the financial mess your city government is in—"  
  
Andy sat up straighter, with wide eyes. "Crap. Are you gonna fire me now, like you fired all those other people?"  
  
Chris chuckled at Andy's honesty. So few people in today's world would speak their minds so freely. It was terribly refreshing. "No, no. And we didn't fire anyone, yet. They've simply been put on administrative leave until the budget crisis is resolved. Nearly all of them will be coming back to work soon."  
  
Andy slumped back and grinned. "Thank god. I thought you'd fired all my best customers. I was starting to freak."  
  
"Not at all. I'm glad to set your heart at ease." This young man seemed rather simple. Perhaps a bit under-educated. But his openness intrigued Chris. "I also wanted to apologize for your injury. I was partially responsible for attempting to cancel the Freddy Spaghetti concert, and I feel terrible that you were injured while trying so valiantly to help your friends from the Parks Department save the show."  
  
Andy shrugged. "It wasn't your fault, man. I kind of blame the dude who ran into me with his car."  
  
"That seems a sensible choice."  
  
"Uh-huh. And anyway, I'm gonna be fine. Dr. Harris and Ann got me all fixed up."  
  
This was a potentially interesting development. "Ann Perkins?"  
  
"Yeah. She's a nurse. And she used to be my girlfriend. But now I like April—you know, Ludgate?"  
  
Chris nodded. "I've met April Ludgate. I attended her party at the Snakehole Lounge."  
  
"Yeah! Me too. I wonder why didn't see each other. I really wanted to hook up with April that night, but she ended up hanging out with some douche—Ralph Macchio or something. I still haven't figured that one out. Cause a few days later, she told me she liked me back. But now she's pissed at me because she thinks I still like Ann, but I totally don't. I've left April like, a million phone messages, and she isn't calling me back." Andy shook his head, and gave his rather sad-looking slinky another half-hearted bounce. "I don't know what to do."  
  
A brilliant idea formed in Chris's mind. The sort of brilliant idea that couldn't possibly fail. Not to mention the sort of brilliant idea that would be a welcome distraction from Ben's unfortunate obsession with guns, lately. He clapped his hands and pointed at Andy. "I know exactly what to do."  
  
"You do?" Andy's eyebrows shot up.  
  
"I do." Chris nodded firmly. "We're going to help each other."  
  
"We are? Do you, like, need a bunch of shoes shined, or something?"  
  
"Not at all. What I do need is advice and information on your ex-girlfriend, Ann Perkins."  
  
Andy narrowed his eyes. "Why? Are you trying to buy her house, or something?"  
  
"No, no, no." Chris waved his hands in front of him. "I'd like to date her. And I thought she was interested in dating me, when we first met. But my subsequent overtures have been unsuccessful."  
  
"Huh?" Andy's jaw hung slack as he stared at Chris.  
  
"She turned me down."  
  
"Oh!" Andy's face brightened again. "Cool. So, you want me to help you get Ann to go out with you?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Sure. Why not? You seem like a cool dude. And if I helped set you up with Ann, maybe April would believe me when I tell her I don't care about Ann like that anymore." He started swinging his slinky out into the hall. Good thing no one was walking by.  
  
"That's where I come in," said Chris. "I want to help you win April Ludgate's heart."  
  
"Oh my god!" Andy jumped to his feet, and the slinky flew across the hall and bounced off the wall. "You'd really do that for me?"  
  
"Yes. I love fixing people up." Chris stood up to maintain eye contact with Andy. "And this is the perfect trade—you help me with Ann, and I'll help you with April."  
  
Andy let out a wordless whoop and caught Chris in a tight one-armed hug. "You are so awesome, dude. Thank you."  
  
"You are very welcome." Chris patted Andy on the back before pulling out of the embrace. "We'll get started tomorrow. I'll buy you lunch, and you can start telling me everything there is to know about April Ludgate, and Ann Perkins."  
  
After a high-five of farewell, Chris headed down the corridor with a new bounce in his step. Ben's paranoia and gun-fixation had been bringing down his spirits. This new partnership with Andy Dwyer was just the thing to bring him right back up.  
  
***  
  
Before heading home, Leslie stopped by her office to finish up some paperwork. And to ponder her latest run-in with Ben. He certainly seemed serious about wanting to be friends—but why? That was the piece of the puzzle Leslie hadn't figured out yet. When he wasn't in the middle of trying to eliminate valuable government services, he actually seemed like a decent guy—not to mention easy on the eyes. But he still didn't make sense. Leslie hated that she couldn't figure him out. Her job would be so much easier if he could just be a little more predictable.  
  
She tapped a few more notes into the document open on her computer, and then saved it and shut it down. Maybe if she headed home now, she'd still have time to bake brownies before her—meeting? get together? rendezvous? date? (No. Not date. Definitely not date.) with Ben.  
  
Service project seemed like that most accurate description, so that's what she settled on. Though it was the oddest, most unexpected service project she'd ever been a part of.  
  
When she stood to leave she glanced through her window and looked across the courtyard to see Chris at the shoeshine stand with Andy. She hadn't thought they even knew each other, so she watched in bafflement as they shared a brotherly hug and a high five before Chris walked off.  
  
Before she could stop herself, Leslie dashed out the door and across the courtyard to Andy's corridor.  
  
"Hi Leslie!" said Andy as he stooped to pick a rainbow slinky off the floor.  
  
"Andy! Andy! What were you talking to Chris about?" She bounced on her toes. She had an instinct that this could be very important.  
  
"That dude," Andy pointed down the hall where Chris had walked away, "is awesome. You know how April's all mad at me because Ann kissed me? Chris said he wants to help me win her back."  
  
"Wow. That is amazing." And strangely generous. These budget guys kept astonishing her.   
  
"Yeah." Andy beamed. "And and he wants me to help him hook up with Ann. Which is cool with me. He's way better than Brendanawicz."  
  
Yes! This was just the break Leslie had been waiting for. She knew that Chris's attraction to Ann would come in handy somehow. "Andy, I have a very important job for you."  
  
His eyes went wide. "What?"  
  
"I need you to gather information about Chris for me, so I can figure out what makes him tick and use it to win him over as an ally in saving the Parks Department budget."  
  
Andy quirked his head. "Information? Like, his favorite foods, or what bands he likes?"  
  
"Sure. Whatever. But actually, no. I want to know what his goals are in this budget reorganization. And what his opinion of community education programs is. And youth sports. Community festivals. That sort of thing."  
  
Andy raised his eyebrows, his jaw hanging slack. Clearly, he didn't get it.  
  
"Here. I'll write you a list," said Leslie, pulling a pad of paper out of her bag. She scribbled a few notes for Andy and handed the paper to him. "Don't let him see this."   
  
"Oh!" He read the notes and nodded. "So you want me to spy on him?"  
  
"Exactly. A little local government espionage. I'm working on figuring out Ben, the other consultant, and you can work on Chris. Between the two of us, we'll find a way to save the Parks Department." Leslie grinned. This was by far the best idea she'd had in days.  
  
"I am totally in. Bert Macklin, FBI, on the case. I won't let you down." He looked more elated than she'd seen him since his accident. Bonus—she could cheer up Andy and get the information she needed at the same time.   
  
"Thank you, Andy. And if I find a way to talk you up to April, I will. I hate when my friends aren't getting along with each other."  
  
"That's awesomesauce, Leslie. You are so super nice." He raised his hand and Leslie gave him the expected high five.  
  
"You, too, Andy. I'm sure April will forgive you. She just needs a little time."  
  
Andy nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure you're right." He still smiled, but his eyes were downcast. Poor guy.  
  
Leslie patted him on the back. "Great. As soon as you learn anything that might help me, come and report in."  
  
"I'm on it, boss." He pointed, the cheerful light returning to his eyes.  
  
With a happy nod, Leslie headed out to the parking lot. Between Andy befriending Chris and her spending more time with Ben, things were finally looking up for her department. Maybe she didn't need brownies to cheer her up, after all.  
  
But she'd make them anyway. There's no bad time for brownies.  
  
***  
  
"Whoa," said Ben, eyeing the towering pile of boxes and bins that filled most of Leslie's garage. "So, uh, where's the shovels?"  
  
"Back here." Leslie scooted through a narrow passage between two precariously teetering towers of bins. He began wondering if he'd end up having to dig her out of a cave-in.  
  
A few of the boxes bore labels like: "wood craft supplies," " _Time_ 1991-2007," and "reindeer decorations."   
  
_Who needs a whole boxful of reindeer decorations?_  
  
Ben's mother had this much stuff in her basement storage room, but she'd had 40 plus years of adult life to collect it in. Surely this couldn't all belong to Leslie, could it?  
  
"Hey—are you storing stuff for a friend, or something?"  
  
She reappeared, bearing two shovels that bumped into the towers and made them wobble ominously. "No." She blinked her wide eyes. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"Umm—Your garage is just really crowded. What is all this stuff?"  
  
"Just things I've collected over the years that I thought I might want again."  
  
He felt tempted to ask when she might possibly want a bin full of staplers (there had to be twenty of them in there) or a metal detector, or—was that a stack of hula hoops in the corner? But he decided that if he wanted to stay on Leslie's good side it would be better not to question the obvious insanity of the contents of her garage. Instead he asked, "Do you have a tarp? I'm worried the trash bags won't be enough to hold in all the—the juices." He winced at the thought of the task they were about to undertake.  
  
Why was he doing this again? Oh. Yeah. Because the insanity that was Pawnee was apparently highly contagious—that's why.  
  
"I think all the camping stuff is on those shelves." Leslie pointed at a metal shelving unit to his right, against the wall. "There should be a few tarps there."  
  
Only one waist-high wall of boxes stood between Ben and the shelves. He leaned over the boxes, scanning the shelves with his eyes before moving anything. Maybe he'd get lucky, and the tarps would be easy to get at.  
  
He turned his gaze upward, and struck gold. A few folded tarps sat on the top shelf under a couple of plastic cases that might have been tackle boxes. (Leslie fished?)  
  
"Found them," he said, and started judiciously shifting a few boxes to clear a path to the shelves. Once he cleared enough space to step next to the shelves, he reached up and tugged at one of the tarps, trying to pull it out without having to move the tackle boxes. The tarp in his grasp slid toward him, rattling the tackle boxes a little. One more good tug, and it would be free.  
  
The tarp slid free. And one of the tackle boxes followed, nailing Ben in the head before landing sideways on the nearest stack of cardboard boxes.  
  
Ben cursed loudly, rubbing his head.  
  
"Oh my god!" Ben heard Leslie's shovels clattering to the ground, and she appeared at his side in an instant. "Are you all right?" She reached up to touch his head, her eyes wide with concern.  
  
His head still throbbed with pain, but Leslie's sudden physical proximity proved a very good distraction. "Yeah, I'm okay." He rubbed the growing bump on his head, and Leslie's fingers brushed against his, massaging his scalp as she searched for the spot, sending a thrill down through his body.  
  
Clearly it had been far too long since he'd touched a woman. Leslie wasn't even his type.  
  
He edged away, and Leslie's hand dropped to her side. "I'm so sorry," she said. "Do want some ice for that?"  
  
He shook his head. At this point he just wanted to get the chore over with. "No. I'll be fine. Let's get going."  
  
"Are you sure? You might have a concussion. I should call Ann and have her come over."  
  
Ben waved his hand. "No. Really. Don't call Ann, I'm fine."  
  
Leslie looked skeptical, but she nodded. "Okay. What's in that box, anyway?" She picked up the tackle box and cracked it open. Her face lit up and she smiled. "My leather-working tools! I'd been wondering what happened to these."  
  
Ben raised his eyebrows. "You do leather-working?"   
  
She shrugged, clicking the box shut again. "Nothing fancy. I wanted to make wallets and belts, but I stalled out at coasters and key chains." She pointed at him. "But if you ever want a kick ass leather key chain fob, I'm your girl."  
  
He couldn't help but smile at the expression on her face. She might be crazy, but Leslie was also undeniably charming. "I'll keep that in mind."  
  
Her eyes narrowed a little, and she nodded. "Yeah. I actually learned leather-working at a class at the rec center. I've learned lots of skills and hobbies that way. Traditionally, Pawnee has offered a wide range of community education classes through the Parks and Recreation department, and those classes were a part of my life long before I started working for city government. Such a shame that other young people might miss out on those same opportunities for learning that so enriched my life."  
  
Ben sighed. It always came back around to the budget with her, didn't it? Couldn't she let up for one evening and just—just relax? "Leslie—I didn't come here to talk about the budget."  
  
"Budget?" She laughed unconvincingly. "Who mentioned the budget? Not me."  
  
He shook his head and grabbed the tarp he dropped when the tackle box hit him in the head. "Whatever. Come on, let's do this."  
  
He strode out of the garage toward his car and popped the trunk so he could line it with the tarp. A moment later, Leslie joined him with the shovels. She'd also managed to find a few pairs of rubber gloves that looked like that might not be too small for him.  
  
She wore a small smile that looked faintly apologetic. "Thanks for this. Really. No one's ever offered to clean up road kill for me, before."  
  
He took the shovels and tossed them into the trunk. "Yeah, well, I must be the biggest glutton for punishment you know, then, because this is _not_ going to be fun."  
  
***  
  
Leslie wrinkled her nose and felt a gag rising in her throat. When Ben called this "not fun," he'd seriously underestimated.  
  
Flies buzzed around the bloated raccoon carcass that seemed to follow her with its eyes no matter when she stood.  
  
Ben had laid a black trash bag out on the pavement next to the corpse, and now they both stood holding shovels, staring at the thing. No one seemed willing to make the first move.  
  
"Okay," Ben said, finally. "I guess we should try rolling it onto the trash bag. Then we can wrap it up in the trash bag and lift it into the trunk."  
  
"Sounds good." She certainly didn't have a better plan.  
  
She let her eyes linger on Ben for a moment. His face was scrunched up in disgust. He obviously didn't want to be doing this. So why was he? Why did he keep going out of his way to help her?  
  
There was one obvious answer, but Leslie had already dismissed it. Ben didn't look at her like he wanted to sleep with her. And picking up road kill had to be the least seductive thing a man could possibly do. That couldn't be it. So why? She didn't think she'd ever met someone more confusing than him.  
  
He edged closer to the carcass, stretching out his shovel. With the tip of the shovel he nudged the raccoon. It shifted a little closer to the trash bag. Not willing to be outdone, Leslie stepped closer and gave the corpse a vigorous shove with the tip of her shovel.  
  
It rolled and flopped onto the trash bag, where it's stomach promptly burst open releasing a gush of fluid and a flock of flies.  
  
That's when Leslie learned that vomiting alongside someone else was a great way to break the ice.  
  
Once they'd both finished retching into the bushes, Ben wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned to her. "I am so sorry I ever suggested we do this. It ranks right up there with the worst ideas I've ever had."  
  
Leslie nodded, and spat into the bushes one more time, trying to get the taste of bile out of her mouth. "Terrible idea. Terrible. I can't believe I went along with this."  
  
He started laughing, and shook his head. "Oh my god. Terrible is a vast understatement."  
  
She chuckled along with him. "We don't have to finish, do we?"  
  
"Hell no." He shook his head vehemently. "There is no way I'm putting that thing in my trunk. I'll see if I can get someone from sanitation to come by and pick it up later this week. And," he met her eyes and pointed at her. "I'll keep my eyes peeled for places where we might be able to divert funds back to road kill clean-up. I get it now."  
  
Leslie folded her arms and nodded, wearing a tight-lipped grin. "Thank you." A weird victory, but a victory nonetheless.  
  
"You're welcome. Blech." He spat again.  
  
"Let's get out of here," said Leslie, nodding her head in the direction of the car. "I have warm brownies waiting back at my place. They'll be the perfect thing to help us forget all this." She waved her arm around, gesturing at both the carcass and the bushes they'd just vomited into.  
  
He quirked an eyebrow. "Really? I don't know if I'm ready to eat anything, yet."  
  
"You'll change your mind once you smell those brownies," she insisted.   
  
And she was right. He seemed to perk up as soon as they step through her door and the scent of brownies wafted over him.  
  
After they both washed up they sat down at her kitchen table for warm brownies and cold milk.  
  
"These are really good," he admitted with a smile after swallowing a big bite.  
  
"It's Ghirardelli brand brownie mix. They make the very best." She took another bite, and then added, "It's weird—cake and cookies and most other baking is always best from scratch. Except for brownies. I've never found a brownie recipe that I like as much as a good quality mix."  
  
"Do you do a lot of baking?"  
  
She nodded, taking another bite, and washing it down with her milk. "Yep. The only thing I really cook is breakfast food, but I love baking."  
  
He leaned back in his chair, an easy smile on his face. "I'm kind of the opposite. I like cooking, but I've never done much baking."  
  
"Well, it sounds like between the two of us we could throw a pretty decent dinner party."   
  
"Sounds like it."   
  
He had a really nice smile. Like— _really_ nice. Leslie still didn't think he seemed like he wanted to sleep with her, but she was starting to wonder how she felt about him. She couldn't deny anymore that she was physically attracted to him. But he still confused the crap out of her. And he still had that annoying condescending streak.   
  
It took a moment for her to realize that she'd been staring at him in silence. She looked away, turning her attention back to the last bite of her brownie. Brownies made sense. She had room in her life for brownies.  
  
Confusing budget consultants, on the other hand, should probably be kept at arm's length. Anything else would be inappropriate.   
  
But tempting. Very tempting.  
  
"Are you doing anything this weekend?" She almost bit her tongue after that slipped out. What was wrong with her?  
  
"Um, actually I’m going shooting with Ron."  
  
"Wow." Ron liked him well enough to take him shooting? That definitely counted for something. Ron didn't like very many people. "I love shooting. Can I come along?" That would be safe. If Ron was there she couldn't let herself think of it as a date.  
  
"Well—" Ben thrummed his fingers on her table, not meeting her eyes. "I'm sure Ron won't mind. The more the merrier, right?"  
  
"Awesome! Are you shooting shotguns? Pistols? Rifles? I have to know which of my guns to bring."  
  
"Pistols, I think. I've actually never been shooting before. Ron is teaching me how."  
  
"Good for you! I love learning new skills. You're never too old to take up new hobbies."  
  
He watched her with narrowed eyes.  
  
"What?" she asked.  
  
He shook his head. "I'm just waiting for you to plug the community education program, again, I guess."  
  
That one stung a little, though she could hardly blame him. "Not everything is about the budget, Ben. Sometimes it's just about being friendly."  
  
That won her another of his cute smiles.  
  
"Good." He nodded. "So, I guess you can join us Saturday."  
  
Ben left not much later, and she sent a few brownies home with him. Leslie wondered if she should call Ann to discuss her increasingly inappropriate feelings about Ben, but finally decided against it. Ann had enough budget consultant problems of her own.   
  
Instead, Leslie ate a few more brownies and turned her attention back to her stack of spreadsheets and budget breakdowns.   
  
She and Ben might have come to a truce outside of the EBTF, but in those meetings the battle still raged, and she intended to win.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter originally published on LiveJournal in November 2011

Ben stared with wide eyes at the large, gently sloping hill. Dotted with wildflowers and clumps of trees, it would have been a pretty place for a picnic. Except, that was, for the accumulation of broken bottles, obliterated cans and bullet-riddled old appliances and cars. It actually looked more like the site of a bleak, post-apocalyptic nightmare.  
  
"What the hell is this place?" he said in muted wonder.  
  
"It's the shooting hill!" replied Leslie in her usual cheerful tone. "The place where old appliances and empty beer bottles come to die in a blaze of glory. Haven't you ever been to a shooting hill before? I thought all worthwhile cities and towns had one."  
  
Ben gazed at the war-like vista in front of him and shook his head. If Partridge had a "shooting hill," he'd never seen it. And none of his friends since he left Partridge had been into guns, so he'd never run across a shooting hill anywhere else, either. "Maybe. But this is the first one I've been to. I guess I thought we'd be coming to an official shooting range, or something."  
  
"There's a shooting range in Eagleton," replied Ron, lifting his gun bag out of the back of his SUV. "But I don't believe in paying a fee for the privilege of discharging my firearms."  
  
Ben shrugged and accepted it. Ron and Leslie—and most of the rest of Pawnee—still didn't make much sense to him. But the life that _did_ make sense had continually disappointed and disillusioned him. The weirdness that was Pawnee made a very refreshing change.  
  
Ron and Leslie spent the next hour instructing him on basic gun safety, teaching him the mechanics of how guns work, and demonstrating the proper stance and grip for safe and effective handgun shooting.  
  
Ben gratefully accepted the long introduction. Though his heart had started racing when Ron and Leslie first pulled out their guns, after just a few minutes of their detailed and common-sense instruction, he felt his normal equilibrium and logic return. Guns weren't responsible for what happened at the courthouse—Everson and his hired assassins were.  
  
Finally, Ron deemed him ready for some target practice and went to set up a row of empty bottles on top of some large stones jutting out of the hillside.  
  
As they waited, Leslie smiled up at him. "Ready for this?"  
  
Ben smiled back. Ever since their ill-conceived attempt at road kill clean-up on Monday, she'd been a lot easier to deal with in the EBTF meetings. She still delved into each agenda item with more detail than the rest of the group would have liked, but as often as not the resulting discussions led to better—more human centered—budget decisions than would have come from just crunching the numbers. And every evening after the official meeting broke up she'd cornered him for a briefing on the agenda items for the next day. Some of her insights into the personalities of the other department heads and the needs of the Pawnee citizenry had already proved invaluable.  
  
So far she was proving to be exactly the kind of ally he needed at this point in his life.  
  
"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, smiling back. "I think this might actually be fun."  
  
"Of course it is." She spread her hands and shook her head as if in disbelief that he'd even question the issue. "Sometimes I like to go target shooting to relieve stress and blow off steam. I think we could both use a little of that right now, after all these depressing budget meetings."  
  
Ben looked down at his feet and nodded. He'd actually been enjoying the budget meetings—for the first time in several years he felt like his efforts were benefiting the public good, not just a corporate bottom line. But, naturally, Leslie would be depressed by the miserable financial state of her city. Sometimes he wished he could wave a magic wand and make everything better, but even in Pawnee there was no such thing as magic.  
  
After setting up all the bottles, Ron came back and handed Ben his pistol. Ron corrected Ben's grip and stance a few times, and then stepped back.  
  
The gun felt heavy and awkward in Ben's hands, and he felt a few drops of sweat sliding down the back of his neck. His arms shook a little.  
  
"Go on—pull the trigger. It won't bite," said Leslie.  
  
Ben nodded and steadied his arms, sighting in on one of the closest bottles. _Therapy_ , he reminded himself. _This is therapy. Go for it._  
  
Slowly, he squeezed the trigger.  
  
Even through his ear protection the report rattled his brain. The force of the recoil surged through his whole body, kicking up his arms. He had to tighten his leg muscles, pressing down into the earth, to keep from taking a step back.  
  
Almost as soon as the sound of the gunshot reverberated through his body, he saw a puff of dirt fly up just to the right of the bottle he'd been aiming at.  
  
 _Whoa._   
  
"Low and to the right," called Ron. "Tighten up your aim and try again."  
  
Ben did as instructed, firming up his body, taking aim, and pulling the trigger yet again. This time the bottle exploded into a cascade of glass.  
  
Though he'd always been inclined toward pacifism, Ben found himself laughing and grinning as Leslie clapped and cheered him on. That actually felt pretty amazing.  
  
Over the course of the morning Ben emptied more than a dozen magazines, his aim growing steadily sharper. Leslie and Ron joined him, using other handguns they'd brought along. Ben felt a rush of excitement every time he hit his target.  
  
So this is what Marshal Burdette had meant by therapy.   
  
Eventually his arms and shoulders started to ache from the unfamiliar use, and they called it day, packing up the guns and ammo carefully. Both Ron and Leslie looked just as relaxed and happy as Ben felt.  
  
"Not bad for a first outing," said Ron as they stowed the gear back in his SUV. "Not bad at all."  
  
Ben smiled. He had a feeling this was high praise coming from Ron. "Yeah—once I got used to the stance and weight, I just needed to get my aiming reflex back in shape. I was a pretty good aim, back in the day."  
  
Ron raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said this was your first time shooting?"  
  
"It is—with a gun. But I used to play a lot of laser tag back in college."  
  
Leslie's jaw dropped, and she smacked him playfully on the arm. "Get out! I love laser tag."  
  
"Me too! I used to have my own gear. A whole gang of us in the same dorm would go out late at night to an empty lot, or this abandoned warehouse near campus, and have laser tag wars." Ben hadn't thought of those adventures in years. "We pretended to be the rebel forces fighting against the imperial storm troopers, and had whole campaigns worked out."  
  
"Oh my god, that's awesome," said Leslie. "I can't believe I never did anything like that. I feel like I missed out. It's almost like you have real combat experience."  
  
Ben laughed sheepishly, shuffling his feet when he caught Ron glaring at him.  
  
"I'd hardly count playing with toys as combat experience," grumbled Ron through his mustache.  
  
 _Oops_. "Of—of course not. Sorry. I didn't mean—I—do you have any military background, Ron?"  
  
Ron huffed. "God no. I'm a Libertarian—I think our federal government has been pimping out our military to the be the world's police force for far too long."  
  
Ben nodded, sucking back his instinctively sarcastic reply. He'd just spent the week getting on their good sides—he didn't want to take a step backwards now. It did feel reassuring when he noticed Leslie rolling her eyes.  
  
"Well," said Ben, "I guess we should head out to lunch now."  
  
"Damn straight," replied Ron. "My breakfast wore off an hour a—"  
  
Shots broke the air from an unknown source.  
  
Without thinking, Ben grabbed Leslie's arm and pushed her against the car, throwing his own body in front of her protectively.  
  
Two large pick-up trucks pulled out of the tree-sheltered road, honking their horns. Several men sat in the back of each truck, shooting shotguns recklessly in the air and laughing.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?!" Ron stormed toward the trucks, cussing and threatening.  
  
Ben's heart raced in his chest, and he felt a wave of overwhelming panic surge through him. His breath came in swift gasps and he slumped away from Leslie to lean against the side of the car. "Fuck." He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against one of the windows as he tried to fight off the dizziness and terror that threatened to overwhelm him. _Not now, god damn it! Not when things are going so well!_ He could feel the blood trickling down his arm all over again—could see the prosecutor's dead eyes staring at him.  
  
Leslie's voice broke through the haze. "Ben, are you all right?"  
  
God, what must she think of him, now? "I'll be okay," he gasped out. He rested a hand on his aching chest, and felt the rapid pounding of his heart. He gritted his teeth and focused on taking longer, slower breaths.  
  
With a soft touch, like leaves drifting down from the trees overhead, Leslie's fingers rested on his shoulder. "Are you sure? You don't look so good." As if from a far distance he could still hear Ron yelling at the newcomers—threatening to call the police.  
  
After a few deliberately controlled breaths, Ben answered, "I'm having—" _Gasp_ "a panic attack." _Gasp_ "I need a few minutes." _Gasp_ "I'll be fine."  
  
Doing this in front of a stoic Ron Swanson had been bearable. Doing it in front of a concerned and caring Leslie Knope, not so much.  
  
"What's up with the scrawny freak?" A rough voice cut through Ben's mental spiral of panic and self-loathing. He pried his eyes open and glanced over to see a burly, tank-top wearing redneck staring at him with a look of mocking curiosity.  
  
Leslie pulled her hand away from Ben's shoulder and stomped toward the redneck, scowling. "Hey—that scrawny freak is my friend! No one gets away with insulting my friends."  
  
"Is that so?" The man leered at her.  
  
"Yes. It is." She rested her clenched fists on her hips. "He also happens to have a medical condition which you and your friends exacerbated with your dangerous—and illegal!—antics while you were driving up. You owe him an apology! Right now! Or else." She pointed in Ben's directing.  
  
He almost had his breathing under control, but now his chest hurt worse than ever. He couldn't believe he'd gotten so pathetic that Leslie had to defend him. He wanted her friendship—not her pity.  
  
"Or else what?" The redneck smirked.  
  
"I'll call the cops," she retorted.  
  
"Good luck with that. My brother's on the force."  
  
Ben's panic had subsided enough for him to recognize the look on Leslie's face—that same scrunched up and scowling look of angry determination that she'd worn the first time she called him a jerk, and again when he tried to shut down the Freddy Spaghetti concert. "Leslie—let it go," he called, forcing his voice louder than the hoarse whisper it wants to be. "I'm okay. Really."  
  
Now Leslie directed her scowl at him, holding her hand up. "No. I've got this. Trust me." She turned back to the redneck. "What is your name, sir?"  
  
The man raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "Billy. _Ma'am_." He drawled the last word in exaggerated deference.  
  
"Well, Billy," said Leslie with fight in her voice, "you are a bully. And I don't like bullies."  
  
Billy laughed some more. "Whatever, lady. I just came up here to have some fun."  
  
Leslie spread her arms. "Fine. Let's have some fun. It looks like you came up here to shoot clay pigeons, right?"  
  
Billy's eyes narrowed. "Right. So what?"  
  
"I propose a friendly wager. You and me. Shooting clays. Best out of ten wins. If I win, you have to apologize to my friend here, and promise to be more responsible with your firearms in the future."  
  
Ben gaped. Did he really just hear that?   
  
"And if _I_ win?" Billy replied.  
  
Leslie took a deep breath. "If you win, I'll admit that you're the better man, and my friends and I will leave without another word."  
  
Billy grinned and rubbed his hands together. "I like that. But I say we sweeten the deal a little more and throw fifty bucks into the mix."  
  
"Fine. Fifty bucks. I'm good for it. How about you?" Leslie got up in Billy's face as much as a petite woman could ever get up in the face of a man over six feet tall.  
  
Billy frowned. "I don't make bets that I can't honor."  
  
"Good. Let's do this thing."  
  
She was actually doing it. She was defending Ben's honor by having a shoot-off with a redneck. Ben knew that something even stranger than picking up road kill was bound to happen—he just hadn't expected it so soon. He rubbed his aching chest and watched in wonder as Leslie wordlessly pulled her shotgun out of the back of the SUV.  
  
While Billy and his friends set up their contraption for throwing clay targets into the air, Ron ambled over and leaned against the SUV next to Ben. "Should we put a stop to this?" Ben murmured.  
  
Ron shook his head. "Leslie knows what she's doing."  
  
He was right.  
  
Ben watched in growing awe as Leslie hit the first four of her clays dead on. Billy missed his fourth.  
  
The gang of rednecks started scowling as Leslie continued her perfect streak, right up until the eighth throw. That time, she missed, and Billy hit.  
  
He sneered at her. "Looks like we're back even."  
  
She glared back. "Two more throws. We'll see."  
  
In spite of the continuing gunfire, Ben's panic-attack had long since passed, leaving only a lingering, dull ache in his chest behind. How could he possibly stay panicked in the face of such extraordinary cool self-possession on display? And more importantly, how had he so quickly managed to join the select group of people who Leslie would defend so passionately? She didn't do this for just anyone, did she?  
  
Perhaps it made him a strange person, but as Ben watched Leslie toting her shotgun with arrogant bravado, her blonde hair escaping from her ponytail to form a shimmering halo around her face, he didn't think he'd ever been more attracted to a woman in his life.  
  
Both Leslie and Billy hit their ninth targets. Just one more throw left.  
  
Leslie's final target flew through the air, spinning wildly before it exploded under the onslaught of her shot.  
  
She turned to stare at Billy as his friends threw his final target.  
  
Later, Ben came to believe that Leslie had somehow developed telekinetic powers, and nudged Billy's aim aside with nothing more than the focused power of her mind.  
  
Billy missed.  
  
Cursing and stomping while his friends looked on in disbelief, Billy set down his shotgun and pulled out his wallet, producing three twenties.  
  
Leslie pulled out her own wallet and handed him two fives. "You said fifty, so I'll keep this fair. Here you go." She swapped money with Billy, who cursed again.  
  
"And don't forget the last part of our bargain," she said, angling her head toward Ben.  
  
Billy looked over, his face red—though whether with embarrassment or anger, Ben couldn't tell. "Sorry," he barked out.  
  
Leslie opened her mouth, but Ben cut her off before she could insist on a better apology (which, Ben had no doubt, was what she planned on doing). "We're good, man."  
  
Billy nodded curtly and returned to his gang of friends while Leslie stowed her gun back in the SUV. Instead of riding up front with Ron, again, she crawled into the back beside Ben for their ride back to town.  
  
"Are you okay, now?" she asked, all her bravado replaced by concern.  
  
Ben nodded. Leslie was unlike anyone he'd ever met before. How did someone like her come into being? It was a cipher. A mystery. One he desperately wanted to solve.   
  
He really could have used someone like her on his team back at Everson's.   
  
It occurred to him as they drove along the bumpy road back into Pawnee that after what he'd seen today, he'd trust Leslie with his life.  
  
He wanted to tell her the truth. Or at least, part of it.  
  
***  
  
The whole drive into town Leslie kept glancing over at Ben as if he might suddenly break down again. She'd never in her life seen someone go from happy and confident to quivering wreak so quickly.  
  
She'd certainly known people with mood disorders before—she'd even sat in on a few sessions of the "Overcoming Depression" class at the rec center to get a better perspective on the group of people suffering in silence in the midst of her community. Ben was certainly the last person she would have guessed to have that kind of affliction. He'd always seemed so competent. So put together and unflappable. Even when he'd been vomiting in the bushes, he'd managed to act as if it was no big deal.  
  
She should have known by this point in her life not to judge a book by its cover.  
  
As they talked, he avoided meeting her eyes, and his smile looked forced. He was probably embarrassed or ashamed of what happened. She wished there was a way she could tell him that he had nothing to feel bad about—that she understood that he had a panic disorder, and she was cool with it. But that might only make him feel even _more_ embarrassed.  
  
"Have you been to J.J.'s yet?" she asked instead. When in doubt, talk about food.  
  
"No. Not yet."  
  
"Well, that's where we're going. It's a Pawnee institution. You can't really say you've lived in Pawnee until you've had a meal at J.J.'s. There ought to be a law."  
  
He smiled at her, finally meeting her gaze. "So I'm about to become an official Pawneean?"  
  
Man, he had nice eyes. Deep brown and depthless, something in them still spoke of his embarrassment, but they also seemed to carry a spark of something else—eagerness? Hope? Leslie began to think that he could have whole conversations with nothing but his eyes. "Sure," she replied.  
  
His eyes got a little happier after that.  
  
***  
  
Chris lingered at the bottom of the stairs up to the Ludgates' front door. Andy turned back to look down at him, a worried expression on his face. That simply wouldn't do.  
  
Flashing a bright grin, Chris gave Andy a double thumbs up. Andy's face brightened a little. That would have to do.  
  
Andy turned and rang the doorbell, clutching the bouquet of flowers he carried in a tight fist. After a moment of anxious waiting, a middle-aged dark-haired woman answered the door.  
  
"Hi Mrs. Ludgate—is April here?" asked Andy.  
  
Mrs. Ludgate's face broke into a smile. "Oh—you must be Andrew! I've heard April talk about you."  
  
Chris smiled at Andy's nervous giggle. "She talks about me?" Andy said.  
  
Mrs. Ludgate continued to smile with her mouth, but Chris noticed that her eyes looked unhappy. "I'm so happy to meet you, Andrew. But I'm afraid April isn't here."  
  
"Oh." Andy's disappointment was palpable even from several feet away. "Do you know where I can find her?"  
  
"I thought you would have heard from a friend—" Mrs. Ludgate shook her head. "April left for Venezuela four days ago. She has friends there, and she said that since she doesn't have a job anymore, she wanted to visit them for the summer. I honestly don't know when she plans on coming back. I'm so sorry."  
  
Chris could feel Andy's pain as the younger man's posture slumped. After a moment, Andy raised the flowers again. "Well, I guess you can have April's flowers, then. I don't have anyone else to give them to."  
  
"Thank you, Andrew. That's very sweet of you." Mrs. Ludgate took the bouquet. "I'll tell April you stopped by next time I talk to her."  
  
"Yeah. Cool." Andy raised the plastic bag he held in his other hand. "I brought her a turkey sub, too. I know she likes turkey subs. I guess I'll eat it myself. Okay. See you." He turned and slouched down the stairs.  
  
Chris couldn't let their venture end like this. He raised his hand and started up the steps. "Mrs. Ludgate—a moment?" he called.  
  
She raised her eyebrows. "Yes? Can I help you?"  
  
Chris came to a stop on the front stoop. "Allow me introduce myself. I am Chris Traeger, and I'm one of the budget consultants at City Hall. My friend Andrew, here, came to find April for personal reasons, but I came here for business purposes."  
  
Mrs. Ludgate's eyes widened, and she clutched the flowers to her chest. "What sort of business?"  
  
Chris leaned forward and put on his best grin (it nearly always worked). "I have heard nothing but wonderful things about your daughter, April. Ron Swanson has no end of praise for her. I just heard you say that she's visiting friends in South America, however, I was wondering if she might be willing to come home soon if she knew she had a job waiting for her?"  
  
"Really?" Mrs. Ludgate's smile was genuine this time. "She can have her job back?"  
  
"Even better—my partner and I are so overloaded with work that we need an assistant to help, and after all we've heard about her I can't think of anyone better for the job than April."  
  
Mrs. Ludgate gasped. "Really? That's wonderful! I do want to give April her freedom now that she's grown up, but I worry about her when she goes so far away. But this is like getting a promotion! I'm sure I could talk her into coming home for this. Thank you so much, Chris."  
  
Worked like a charm. "You're very welcome. If she gets home sometime in the next two weeks, the job is hers."  
  
"I'll do my best to get her home."  
  
Once Chris finished his conversation with Mrs. Ludgate and joined Andy at the base of the stairs, the young man was literally bouncing with excitement. "Dude! That was amazing! You're totally rescuing April from Mexico for me!"  
  
Chris patted Andy on the back. "Anything for a friend. Now, let's go to lunch and you can tell me more about Ann Perkins."  
  
They slid into Chris's car.  
  
"I still think you should just follow my plan. It'll win Ann over, for sure," said Andy.  
  
Chris sighed. "I told you—breaking my leg to win her sympathy is simply out of the question." He appreciated that Ann had a nurturing personality, but he wasn't convinced that calling on her for medical care would be the best approach to a starting a fun, casual relationship, no matter what Andy said.  
  
"How 'bout an arm, then? Or maybe a few fingers?" Andy's turkey sub shed lettuce as he unwrapped it.  
  
Chris winced at the growing mess, but kept his opinions of Andy's eating habits to himself. "Don't worry. I'll think of another plan."  
  
***  
  
Leslie began to think that panic disorders were the least of Ben's troubles when, after he nodded politely as she recommended several of the amazing breakfast entrees at J.J.'s, he ordered a chicken caesar salad instead.   
  
She raised her eyebrows as their waitress took their menus. "Salad? Really?"  
  
He shrugged and shook his head. "I like salad."  
  
Leslie forced a smile. "Oh. That's—great."  
  
"Salad is for rabbits and people who hate themselves," said Ron, unfazed by Ben's shocked expression.  
  
Leslie shrugged and nodded in agreement. "Someone had to say it."  
  
"Seriously?" Ben looked back and forth between the two of them.  
  
"I'm always serious about hating salad, Ben."  
  
In spite of Ben's icky lunch choice they had a fun meal together. Ron talked more about guns and hunting (Ben apparently disliked the idea of field-dressing animals, but said he'd be willing to cook them if someone else did the dirty work) and Leslie got Ben to tell her more about his laser tag adventures. He even agreed to check out the laser tag arena at the local family-fun center with her sometime soon. Which would be awesome—she hadn't been to laser tag since she broke up with Dave.  
  
As the meal wound down, Ben started looking serious again, and during a lull in the conversation he spoke up. "Can I share something personal with you guys?"  
  
"No." "Of course you can." Ron and Leslie spoke at the same time.  
  
Wisely, Ben chose to ignore Ron and turned to Leslie instead. "And will you keep this just between the three of us? It's kind of private."  
  
"We would never divulge anything you choose to share in confidence. You can trust us," replied Leslie, her curiosity rising. She leaned toward Ben, putting on her most trustworthy smile.  
  
Ron just leaned back and folded his arms with a resigned sigh.  
  
Ben lowered his voice a little. "It's about this panic attack thing. This is actually a pretty recent development for me. I never used to have any problems like that."  
  
Leslie nodded encouragingly. Clearly he really needed to talk about something.  
  
"You see," continued Ben, "about a month before coming here to Pawnee I was—I was caught in the crossfire during a botched robbery. And I was shot."  
  
Leslie's heart froze in her chest. Of all the things Ben Wyatt could have shared with her, this was absolutely the last she would have expected. "Oh my god."  
  
Ron leaned forward. "Where were you wounded?"  
  
Leslie frowned at the eager gleam in Ron's eyes. If anything could give Ron a bigger man-crush on someone then cutting government budgets, it would be surviving a gun battle.  
  
"My shoulder," said Ben, tapping his upper left arm. "It was a graze. The doctor told me I was super lucky. If the shot had penetrated instead of grazing, I might have lost my arm, or even bled out."  
  
Leslie rolled her eyes when Ron's face lit up even more. Ben was sharing a traumatic, emotional experience here, and Ron was acting the ice cream truck had just pulled up to hand out free samples.  
  
"I was shot in the head last year," said Ron, "by an idiot with no hunting license."  
  
"That would be Tom," interjected Leslie. The corners of Ben's mouth twitched up.  
  
"It was just bird-shot," continued Ron, "but it still hurt like hell. I'd show you the scars, except I doubt we could find them. Us Swansons are known for the thickness and gloss of our hair."  
  
"I can see that." Ben's eyes darted to the side, meeting Leslie's gaze. In that simple glance, something happened—something that normally only happened with friends she'd known for a long time. In the moment their eyes locked, she felt as if she understood exactly what he was thinking (that he found Ron's comments amusing, but he really wanted to get back to more serious issues because he had a lot on his mind), and that somehow he knew she understood. His gaze only lingered for a few seconds, but when he turned his eyes back to Ron, Leslie realized she'd been holding her breath.  
  
She exhaled and spoke up. "I don't think Ben is interested in comparing battle scars right now—are you? Was there something more you wanted to say before Ron derailed the conversations?"  
  
His smile twitched up again. "Yeah. Actually. Thanks. There's actually—there's actually something I've really wanted to get off my chest the past few weeks. And, uh, Chris knows about it, but he doesn't want to talk about it because he never wants to talk about anything negative. But if I don't share this with someone it's gonna drive me insane."  
  
Leslie wasn't sure what he might have to say that could be bigger than getting shot, but he seemed pretty desperate to get it out. She laid her hand on the table next to his arm. "Go ahead. We're listening."  
  
He took a deep breath, like someone about to jump off the high dive at the pool. "I was with someone, during the shooting. A guy I'd worked with a few times. We weren't close, or anything. He actually kind of annoyed me. But, uh, he was a good person—just trying to do his best at life and at his job. And—and—he was hit in the chest."  
  
 _Oh god_. Leslie knew where this story was going, just from the look in Ben's eyes. She almost wished he wasn't telling her this, because, really, how do you respond to something like this? How do you tell someone that it'll be okay—that everything's all right, and good, when in reality it's not?  
  
Ben's voice got low and rough as he continued his story. "We were both down on the ground, and everything was happening so fast. I—I couldn't really think. But my eyes locked on his. And . . . " He took a long, shuddering breath. "And I watched it happen. That moment—that moment when everything that made him a person—that made him _him_ —disappeared, and left behind nothing but a broken corpse. He was just gone. It happened so fast. So fucking fast. There was nothing I could do. Nothing anyone could do." Ben shook his head staring down at his hands. "I've never felt more afraid—more powerless—in my life. There was nothing I could do to save him. Nothing I could do to save myself. I was just—just—powerless."  
  
He slumped down in his chair and sighed with what sounded like relief. He lifted his eyes to meet Leslie's gaze again. "I had my first panic attack the next day. I've had about a dozen since then. And every time I can see his eyes going dead all over again, and I feel that same powerlessness." He flicked his gaze over to Ron, whose face was grim. "That's why I want to learn to shoot. It's like, therapy, or something. Anything to help me stop feeling so powerless."  
  
Leslie felt like Ben had knocked the wind out of her. These past few weeks she'd spent so much time fighting him about trivial budget details—haranguing him about each and every line item. And those things were important. But in the end they were just numbers. Little, insignificant details, compared to what he'd been wrestling with.  
  
 _God, I was such a jerk. Why does he even like me? Why does he trust me enough to tell me this_?  
  
He was looking at her again, and his eyes hardened. "Don't feel sorry for me, Leslie. That's not what I want. I'm not trying to get your sympathy, or your pity. I just—I just needed to tell someone."  
  
She sucked in a quick breath and clasped her hands together under the table. "Of course. Of course. Yeah, I get it. I get it. I—"  
  
She might have babbled on like that forever, but fortunately Ron spoke up, cutting her off. "I'll take you shooting every Saturday until you feel comfortable enough with a weapon to get one of your own. And I'll teach you how to safely carry a concealed weapon. Something else that might interest you—an acquaintance of mine runs a Krav Maga studio. His classes might be helpful to you."  
  
Thank god Ron knew what to say. She certainly didn't.  
  
Ben raised his eyebrows. "What's Krav Maga?"  
  
"It's the official martial art of the Israeli military. It's designed to take down and disable your opponents as quickly and efficiently as possible. The instructor is a former Army Ranger. He's very good. I can point out the studio on our way back to your place," Ron replied.  
  
"Yeah. I'd like that." Ben nodded.  
  
Leslie chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to stop from talking. She had nothing helpful to say right now. Nothing that wouldn't sound either pitying or flippant. Ben needed real friends right now more than anyone else she knew, but she wasn't sure how to be there for him. Everything about this situation confused the crap out of her. If she couldn't feel sorry for him, how _could_ she feel?  
  
"Maybe next Saturday I'll bring along a few of my tactical weapons," said Ron, smiling. "I think it might be therapeutic for you to blow the shit out of a few appliances."  
  
Ben actually laughed— _laughed!_ —at Ron's suggestion. "Yeah. That sounds pretty cool."  
  
"It's a plan," replied Ron.  
  
Seeing Ben laugh again—seeing how his smile lit up his eyes—made Leslie remember all the other smiles, and frowns, and puzzled looks she'd seen on his face since she met him. Made her remember all their fights. All the times he'd held firm when she wanted him to give in, and also all the little ways he'd tried to reach out to her and help her when he could.  
  
Her first impressions of him had been way off. Like, astronomically off.  
  
And then she remembered what had happened this morning, when those jerks first drove up shooting their guns in the air. It had been such a quick thing—such a brief moment—that in the wake of Ben's panic attack and her shooting match she'd almost forgotten it.  
  
When they first heard those guns going off, Ben had pushed her against Ron's car and jumped in front of her.  
  
That act had seemed so insignificant at the time. But knowing what she knew now . . .  
  
It meant everything.  
  
If Dave had ever thought she was in danger, he would have done the same thing. But he had police and military training. He was comfortable around gunfire.  
  
Ben, on the other hand, suffered from a trauma-induced panic disorder directly related to gunfire. But he'd still jumped in front of her.  
  
Ron had started describing his arsenal of guns to Ben, giving her a moment to think. A moment to try to puzzle out the full magnitude of what Ben had done.   
  
Several minutes later, after she'd paid the tab with her winnings from Billy the bully and they'd all headed out to Ron's car, she still couldn't quite wrap her mind around it.  
  
One thing was certain—she didn't feel sorry for Ben anymore. Instead, she was a little awestruck.  
  
The feeling persisted throughout the next week. She tried to keep up the fight for valuable government services in the EBFT meetings, but as often as not she found herself deferring to Ben's opinions and suggestions. Her change in attitude became so pronounced that on Wednesday, when they went to get coffee together during a break, Ben actually asked her if she'd been feeling all right.  
  
She tried to blow off his question and make an excuse. But really, there was no excuse.  
  
She spent the rest of the day trying to talk herself back into fighting him. So he'd proven himself willing to take a bullet for her in spite of his crippling panic disorder. So what? There were still budget items well worth fighting for. She needed to get her head back in the game. She needed to find a way to feel normal around him again.  
  
Finally she decided to make a desperate move—one that would be sure to reenergize her drive to save government programs. She emailed Ben and Chris, asking if they could move up the discussion of the Parks Department budget to that Friday. They quickly agreed.  
  
That Friday morning, Ben pulled up his first PowerPoint slide of the day. "Okay. Time to talk about the Parks budget. Let's talk about programs, first. I think it's clear that several expensive programs need to be temporarily suspended and permanently scaled back—two that come to mind right away are community education, and youth sports."  
  
"Suspended? Scaled back? These are invaluable services for the citizens of our community, and you think you can just ditch them on the side of the road like so much trash?" Leslie didn't even have to feign her outrage—it was real, all right.  
  
Ben responded with one of his by-now-familiar lectures on fiscal prudence and necessary sacrifices. But instead of looking and sounding condescending, a smile flickered around his eyes, and something in his firm, confident tone of voice made her heart race.  
  
It was almost too easy. The fight was back on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter originally posted December 2011 on my LiveJournal.

When Ben returned to the condo Saturday afternoon with windblown hair and dirt on his shoes, Chris frowned. He must've gone shooting with Ron Swanson, again. It was turning into a very unsavory habit. He still hadn't forgiven Marshall Burdette for suggesting it. The only good thing to come of Ben's strange new friendship with Ron was their introduction to Don, the owner of a local Krav Maga studio.   
  
Chris had never been a practitioner of martial arts, but if taking those classes together would help Ben cope with his panic disorder better without taking up firearms, then Chris was happy to do it. Besides, it looked like a fantastic workout.  
  
"Hello, Ben," called Chris from the kitchen. "We're making healthy fruit smoothies. Would you care to join us?"  
  
Andy waved at Ben, spattering papaya juice around the kitchen. Chris sighed. His lessons about personal cleanliness clearly hadn't sunk in yet.  
  
"Uh, thanks, but I just had lunch." Ben strolled toward the kitchen, taking in the sight of the fresh fruits spread out across the counter. "Looks good, though."  
  
"No—looks excellent!" replied Chris. "And healthy. And beautiful. I've always found fresh fruit extremely aesthetically pleasing."  
  
"They are kinda pretty," replied Andy, reaching for a slice of star fruit. "This is probably what a starfish would look like if you sliced it open. Have you ever tried that?"  
  
"No. I have not." Andy asked the strangest questions, sometimes.  
  
Andy looked back at Ben. "Dude—Chris told me about the action hero classes you're starting on Wednesday. I'm gonna come watch. I'm totally psyched. And in three weeks when I get my cast off, I'm signing up, too."  
  
Ben sat on the edge of the kitchen table and raised his eyebrows. "Wow. That sounds—really fun."  
  
Grinning, Andy nodded enthusiastically. "I know, right? I'm gonna get super ripped so I can look amazing for April when she gets back. Did Chris tell you she's coming back?"  
  
"Maybe coming. Mrs. Ludgate said _maybe_ ," Chris corrected Andy. As much as he hoped he could help his naïve young friend, he didn't want to get his hopes up too high just yet.  
  
Undeterred, Andy shook his head. "She'll be back. _Maybe_ is April-speak for yes."  
  
Chris decided to let this one slide. Instead, he turned to Ben and said. "I got a call from our friend, Tonya Burdette, today. She invited us both up to Indianapolis next weekend for an Independence Day cookout and fireworks." Chris knew that Ben would be able to interpret the invitation into what it really was—agent Burdette commanding them to spend the holiday weekend in Indy with "friends" in order to firm up their cover identities with the folks back in Pawnee.  
  
"Who's Tonya?" asked Andy, tossing a kiwi up and down. "Is she your girlfriend, or something?" he said to Ben.  
  
"No. No no no. We're just friends. Friends. Friendly—friends." Ben stood up and started backing toward the stairs.  
  
Chris shook his head a little as he diced a mango. Ben was too easily flustered.  
  
Ben headed upstairs with some excuse about getting work done in his room, and Chris continued his lecture on the nutritional value and flavor notes of the different fruits on the counter. Andy was surprisingly ignorant of a large number of topics. This friendship may have begun as an attempt to learn more about Ann Perkins, but over the past two weeks gaining information on Ann had taken a backseat to helping Andy improve himself as a human being. He was a good-hearted man, but there was vast room for improvement. He had clearly never had a male role-model or mentor who encouraged him to better himself. Chris had decided to fill that role. It would be an interesting project that would help him pass the time in Pawnee, and help Andy at the same time.  
  
Once they finished their smoothies, one of Andy's band-mates picked him up. Not much later, Ben finally reemerged from his room.   
  
Chris flipped through a magazine while Ben puttered around the kitchen for a few minutes. Ben said, "So, are you still trying to get an in with Leslie's friend?"  
  
"Ann Perkins." Chris sighed. "As much as I would enjoy dating the lovely Ann Perkins, I don't think Andy holds the key to her heart."  
  
"Um, yeah. I think I told you that more than a week ago."  
  
"Excellent advice, as always," quipped Chris, determined not to let Ben bring him down.  
  
"So does this mean you're giving up on Ann?"  
  
"Not at all. I'll simply have to pursue other methods of winning her over."  
  
Ben strolled into the living room and sat perched on the couch arm. "I guess you're finally ready to get over Kelsey, then, huh?"  
  
Immediately Chris felt his whole body tense up, and his jaw clenched shut. He hadn't permitted himself to think of Kelsey in months, and it was unfair of Ben to bring her up like this.  
  
Ben must have seen Chris's demeanor change, because he sighed. "We're still doing this? I'm still not allowed to say her name?"  
  
"I would very much appreciate it if you didn't." Chris had learned that thinking about the woman he gave up (for her own good) when he became an FBI informant did nothing but depress him. He hated feeling depressed. And he hadn't found a good herbalist in the Pawnee area yet to help him combat that depression. Better to change the topic as quickly as possible.  
  
"Sorry. I guess I figured this whole Ann thing—" Ben shrugged. "But I was wrong. Sorry."  
  
"Apology accepted." Chris nodded, turning back to his magazine, trying to divert his mind to something less negative.  
  
"What's the deal with Ann, anyway?" asked Ben, apparently not getting the hint that Chris was done talking. "She's turned you down, what, five, six times? Why not move on?"  
  
Chris put down his magazine and held up three fingers. "One—I enjoy the chase. Two—I know she's attracted to me, and I'm very curious as to why she's not acting on that attraction." He ticked off his fingers. "And three—I know for a fact that she's looking for a rebound relationship to get over a serious boyfriend."  
  
"Ah." Ben nodded his head. "I think I finally get it. You think you can be the rebound for each other."  
  
"Precisely." Though he could leave it at that, after a moment of pondering, Chris decided that this would be an opportune moment to pass along some advice to his friend. "After all, neither of us are in a position to get into a serious relationship right now. Something casual, yes. But nothing serious. It would be unfair to any woman to draw her into a serious relationship under false pretenses, don't you think?" He gave Ben a pointed gaze, and Ben looked away, with a guilty look in his eyes.  
  
Ha. Chris had been right. He'd seen the way Ben had been looking at Leslie Knope lately. And they'd been spending a fair amount of time together. An unexpected development, to be sure. In the years that he'd known him, Ben had exclusively gone for tall brunettes. But Chris supposed they shared a similar passion for work as well as for the betterment of society and the collective good. Maybe that was the attraction.  
  
Chris didn't know Leslie well enough yet to be able to determine if she'd be game for a casual, short-term relationship. He certainly hoped Ben would take the time to find out before making a move. Chris would hate to see Leslie get hurt.  
  
"Yeah. Of course. It would be—be a bad idea to start something serious here in Pawnee," said Ben, looking down at his hands.  
  
"Yes. It would be," Chris emphasized. Poor Ben—he looked very unhappy. But it would be better in the long run to ignore this infatuation with Leslie than to get involved in something doomed to end as soon as they were recalled for the trial.  
  
After a moment, Ben shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "I think I'll go grocery shopping. Want to come?"  
  
Now this was a good diversion. "Excellent idea. In fact, I just learned that there's a health food store in Snerling—just 40 minutes away. I'd love to check it out. Are you interested?"  
  
"Sure, why not?" Ben replied unenthusiastically. But it still counted as a yes.  
  
Chris leaped to his feet and clapped his hands together, "Great! Let's get going." He loved health food stores. He literally couldn't wait to try this one out.  
  
***  
  
Leslie led Ann into the City Hall courtyard Monday morning for their coffee-and-chat date. The sun shone bright in a clear blue sky, reflecting Leslie's sunny mood. She'd spent the weekend prepping for her ongoing battle for the Parks budget, and couldn't wait for the EBTF meeting to get going. But Ann first.  
  
Ann looked around the courtyard warily before sitting down. "Are you sure it's safe? Chris might come through."  
  
Leslie sighed. She felt bad that she'd warned Ann off of the budget consultants, especially considering that she and Ben were—nothing. Friends. That's all. She shook her head and smiled back at Ann. "You know—if you decide you want to go out with him, you should do it. Don't let his work on my budget hold you back. I mean, he's friends with Ben, so he can't be that bad."  
  
Ann's forehead wrinkled as she frowned. "You mean Ben the jerk? Do we not hate him anymore?"  
  
Leslie winced. She'd been so caught up in the budget battle that she'd forgotten to keep Ann updated on the Ben situation. But there was no Ben situation. Not really. "No. Don't hate him. He's a good guy. I like him."  
  
Ann continued to frown as she took a sip of her coffee. "Really? When did this happen?"  
  
Leslie shrugged, dipping a big finger-full of whipped cream off her own coffee. "I don't know. It just, kind of happened."  
  
Ann leveled a steely gaze at her. "Don't hold back on me. Spill. What's up with you and Ben?"  
  
Oh boy. Leslie hadn't told Ann everything that had been going on with Ben at first because she still wanted Ann to hate him, and then because she was too busy analyzing budget ideas, and then because she wasn't sure how to tell Ann everything that was going on without admitting that she'd been wrong about Ben in the first place. But since she'd pretty much just admitted that anyway, she might as well tell the whole story. She started with the 10:30 am beers and made her way all the way through to their latest budget battle—but she amended Ben's personal story to "witnessed an armed robbery" rather than the truth. A promise was a promise.  
  
"Wow," said Ann. "So you and Ben and Ron are like, shooting buddies now?"  
  
Leslie finished slurping up her whipped cream, and shrugged again. "We've only been twice."  
  
Ann's eyes narrowed. "Leslie—do you. . . _like_ Ben? Because you really sound like you might like him."  
  
"No! Of course not. I don't _like_ him. Well. Maybe. Possibly. He is really cute. But no. I can't. He's in charge of cutting my budget. Liking him would be a total conflict of interest." Leslie bit her bottom lip. Ugh. This whole Ben thing was getting complicated. "What if I _did_ like him?"  
  
Ann smiled. That was a good sign.  
  
"I think it might be good if you like him," said Ann. "You haven't dated anyone at all since you broke up with Justin. It's time for you to get back out there."  
  
Leslie's heart sped up a little as she contemplated the thought of "getting back out there" with Ben. "Okay. Maybe I'll ask him out. But not until the Parks budget is resolved, once and for all. I have to have my priorities."  
  
"Of course you do." Ann looked smug.  
  
"But what about you and Chris?"  
  
Ann sighed. "I don't know. I'm still not sure if I'm ready to start dating again, yet. But he is hot. Definitely very hot. And nice. And hot. Really really hot. God. I'm not sure."  
  
"Well, whatever you decide, don't let me stand in your way. Okay?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Hey Leslie!" Andy called from the doorway, and skidded across the courtyard on his rollerblades. "Burt Macklin, FBI, reporting in."  
  
"Hi, Andy," said Ann.  
  
He pointed at her. "Hands off, Perkins. I hope you don't plan on kissing me again."  
  
"No. I absolutely do not plan on kissing you ever again," she replied.  
  
"Good, because that would not be cool."  
  
Ann rolled her eyes, and Andy turned back to Leslie. "So, I'm still spying on Chris for you. He has me on this fruit-smoothie diet, and the smoothies taste totally awesome, but I'm starving. I think I need some meat soon, or I'll die. Seriously."  
  
Leslie raised an eyebrow. Andy had reported on Chris's health and fitness obsession before. What was up with that man? No one should be deprived of meat. "I have half of a bacon-egg McMuffin left if you—"  
  
"God yes!" Andy grabbed the breakfast sandwich and started wolfing it down before she could finish her sentence. She didn't stop him. If he needed real food that badly, she'd gladly give it to him.  
  
"So, anything else, besides Chris's weird health habits?" she asked as Andy licked his fingers.  
  
He nodded. "Yeah. Some chick named Tonya invited Ben and Chris to Indy for the Fourth of July. I think she might be Ben's girlfriend, or something."  
  
"What?! Ben doesn't have a girlfriend." If he did, she would—she would—she wasn't sure what she would do, but it would be bad. Exploding raccoon carcass bad. How dare he be so cute with her and have a girlfriend?  
  
"He said she wasn't, but he had a really weird look on his face, so he might have been lying."  
  
Relief surged through her. Of course Ben didn't have a girlfriend. Andy had just misread the situation.  
  
Ann spoke up. "If he said she's not his girlfriend, then she's not his girlfriend. Right?"  
  
Andy shrugged. "I guess. But you should have seen how weird he got when Chris brought her up. Maybe he just likes her, or something."  
  
No. Ben was not supposed to like Tonya from Indianapolis. Leslie clenched her teeth. This was _not_ how she wanted to start the day.  
  
"Okay Andy," she said, "new assignment. I don't need you to spy on Chris anymore. I need you to spy on Ben. Find out everything you can about this Tonya woman, and get back to me. All right?"  
  
"Leslie," said Ann, a warning look in her eye. "I don't know if that's a good idea—"  
  
"Of course it's a good idea!" Leslie turned back to Andy. "Are you up to this task?"  
  
"Yes. I am. Anything for you, Leslie. I will find out who this Tonya chick is, and what she's doing with Ben, and I will tell it to you." He pounded the table with his fist.  
  
"Awesome. Go do it!"  
  
Andy skated off, a grin on his face. Ann just shook her head.  
  
That day in the EBTF meetings Leslie was so distracted by Ben's cute face and the adorable smile he kept sending her way (there was no way he could be interested in that Tonya woman and still smile at her like that—could he?) that it took her nearly fifteen minutes to realize that he was shooting down every single proposal she'd made to save youth sports and the community education program. Crap.  
  
She refocused and spent the rest of the day in full-on battle mode. Dragging the task force through page after page of financial records, she did everything in her power to justify the programs. The problem was, Ben was right—both programs had been operating on a deficit for nearly five years. There was no easy answer.  
  
At the end of the day she packed up her binders, determined to pull an all-nighter if that's what it took to keep the programs going.   
  
Ben tried to talk to her on her way out, but she held up her hand. "Not now. I'm busy thinking. And walking. And leaving. I'm think-walk-leaving. No time to talk." She felt a small pang of disappointment that he didn't try to follow her, but she quickly banished it. Who had time to think about cute guys who might possibly like Tonya-from-Indy when the cornerstones of her department were at stake?  
  
She poured over documents and records late into the night, searching for a solution. Raising fees on both programs would help, but not completely. Asking for more volunteer help would also be good. But in these hard economic times, Leslie couldn't guarantee that she could _get_ more volunteer help, or convince people to pay higher fees. However, those were the only solutions, so she readied herself to present them.  
  
Tuesday she did her valiant best to make her ideas sound like brilliant, amazing, wonderful miracle solutions, but movie-soundtracks and moving speeches could only get her so far. In the end, the numbers were the numbers. She could see it on Ben's face when she went to sit down after her presentation—that look he always got when he didn't want to tell her something but knew he had to.  
  
She steeled her spine. "Fine. I can see you aren't convinced. Hit me with the bad news. What are we going to do?"  
  
Chris looked to Ben. Ben sighed, looked at Leslie, and spoke with an apologetic tone and a pleading look in his eyes. "We're going to suspend the youth sports and community education programs for six months until the city rebuilds a bigger financial reserve. And we're going to recommend that the programs be suspended for a further six months if certain financial milestones haven't been met in time."  
  
Now Chris spoke up. "However, we do appreciate all your hard work and dedication, Leslie. And those proposed fee increases and calls for volunteerism will go down as official recommendations in our report, for when the programs can finally be reinstated. Good work!" He flashed a double-thumbs-up at her. She felt like slugging him.  
  
Chris called the break for lunch right after that, and Leslie grabbed her bag, storming out of the room without once looking back. Stupid Ben. Stupid Chris. Stupid budget!  
  
None of her hard work has solved anything. She felt like a failure. How was she ever going to be president of the United States if she couldn't even save youth sports? And handling this would be so much easier if she could just blame Ben and Chris. But they were only doing their jobs the best way they knew how. Like Ben had told her dozens of times already—he was there to dig Pawnee out of the hole it's elected officials had gotten it into over the past decade. And that sort of work required hard choices.  
  
But suspending community education? She couldn't even save _that_? She blinked back tears as she stormed down the hall toward the Parks Department.  
  
"Leslie. Leslie!"  
  
Ben. Of course. Stupid Ben, probably coming to apologize for things that weren't his fault.  
  
She stopped and hastily wiped her eyes before turning to face him. "Yes, Ben?"  
  
He slowed his quick steps and came to a halt in front of her. "I'm really sorry about that. I wish there was something we could do—but it was either suspend those programs or fire April and Jerry. You know that, right?"  
  
"I know, I know," she replied. "That doesn't make it any easier."  
  
"I'm really sorry. Really, really sorry. I know how much those programs mean to you." He started rambling a lengthy explanation and more apologizing, and Leslie got more and more frustrated. She didn't want apologies and niceness (and he really couldn't like some woman named Tonya—could he?), she wanted solutions! And if she couldn't have solutions, than she wanted to yell and fight and blow off some steam, not to just stand there being cordial.  
  
Snapping her eyes up to meet Ben's, she cut him off mid-sentence. "Laser tag. You. Me. Pawnee Family Fun Zone. Tonight."  
  
He blinked a few times, his mouth hanging open. "What?"  
  
"You heard me. You said you'd go to laser tag with me sometime, right?"  
  
"Right. I—uh—I guess I did."  
  
She glared at him. "It's on. Tonight. Meet me there at eight o'clock."  
  
His eyes widened, taking on a shell-shocked cast. "Um. Okay. I'll see you there at eight."  
  
"Good." She pointed at him, and narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to kick your ass."  
  
***  
  
Only in Pawnee would Ben find himself sitting through a "pre-mission briefing" at a laser tag arena, surrounded by a pack of sweaty teenagers and a very feisty-looking Parks Department Deputy Director on a Tuesday night. He knew he was in for another unique Pawnee experience when the slack-jawed Fun Zone employee started dividing the group into two teams and tried to put both Ben and Leslie on the same team.  
  
"No!" She jumped to her feet. "We are on opposite teams. _Opposite teams_. Got it?"  
  
The Fun Zone dude shrugged. "Fine. You're green team, he's red team. Whatever."  
  
They suited up in their laser tag gear, and Leslie cornered him before they headed into the arena, a manic glint in her eye. "You're going down, Wyatt." With a confident nod, she speed-walked into the arena (running was against the rules) and dodged around a neon-paint-covered wall, glowing faintly under the black lights.  
  
Fine. If she wanted to play hardcore, Ben would play hardcore. He raised his gun to the ready and dodged around a different wall, making his way into the rambling black-lit maze of the arena.  
  
As he turned and ducked and dodged his way through the arena, all his old laser tag instincts started coming back to him. He found himself grinning with wicked delight every time his laser connected with the green-lit vests of the opposing team. His heart thumped with excitement every time he peered around an obstacle to see a shock of blond hair above a green vest. He loved the way she shrieked every time she realized he'd hit her again, and even more he loved her evil peal of laughter every time she hit him in return.  
  
How in the world did Leslie manage to maintain such a high level of passion for everything she did? Ben would have thought it would be exhausting.  
  
When the loudspeaker blared that he match was over, Ben made his way to the exit and ran into Leslie in the equipment room, where they hung up their gear. "You know," he said, "you'd be a lot better at this if you didn't yell and cackle every time you shoot someone."  
  
She hung up her glowing vest with a quick jerk and scowled at him. "I do _not_ cackle."  
  
Ben shrugged, smiling. "Laugh of triumph, cackle. Whatever. Either way—not very stealthy."  
  
Her scowl deepened. "Don't get so high and mighty until we see the final standings."  
  
Ben didn't think the final standings would change his opinion. He continued to smile, and held out his hand, gesturing that Leslie should lead the way to the lobby.  
  
Once there his grin got broader. Not only had the red team won the match, Ben had the second highest score on his team. Leslie's final score was lower. Not much lower, but definitely lower. Ben folded his arms and nodded his head. He usually resisted the urge to gloat, but the situation practically demanded it. "Yep. Looks like I've still got it."  
  
Leslie looked like she could shoot fireballs out of her eyes. "Let's see how much you _got it_ now that I'm warmed up. I insist on a rematch."  
  
Ben wasn't sure if he should smile in pleasure or go running in fear—either seemed like valid options at that point.  
  
Leslie marched up to the register and slammed down a credit card, shouting, "Two for laser tag!"  
  
Before the clerk could pick up her card, Ben whipped out his own credit card. "No. I insist. Winner's treat." He placed a slight emphasis on the word "winner."  
  
Leslie opened her mouth with the look in her eyes that signaled she was about to start yelling at him, but she bit it back. Ben watched in amusement as she took a deep breath and composed herself. "Thank you, Ben. It's very gracious of the _winner_ ," she sounded as if she was struggling not to gag on the word, "to pay for the next round."  
  
Ben knew exactly how to come back. "Anytime."  
  
The look on her face was priceless.  
  
During the next match, Leslie's team won but Ben's personal score was still slightly higher than hers. Ben also noticed that she'd stopped cackling.  
  
Naturally, she insisted on a third round. This time she even stopped yelling. She remained cool and composed in the equipment room as the hung up their vests. "That was well played, sir," she said. "May the best man—or woman—win."  
  
But her cool demeanor disappeared as soon as she saw that she'd finally managed to outscore Ben. (Only by 10 points, but it was enough.)  
  
"Hah!" She bounced and clapped her hands. "I told you I would kick your ass, and kick your ass I did." She poked him in the chest, a smug grin on her face.  
  
Ben refrained from pointing out that he kicked her ass first—twice. She was just too goddamn adorable when she was gloating. "You're right. You did it. You beat me fair and square. How about I buy you a soda to celebrate?"  
  
Her smile softened, her eyes lighting up. When she looked at him like that, Ben had to consciously remind himself that this wasn't a date. Yet a corner of his mind nagged him with the thought that maybe it should be.  
  
They strolled over to the snack bar, and he bought them both Cokes. Leslie, of course, acted aghast at his preference for diet.  
  
"It's like drinking flavored water," she said, sitting down with him. "What's even the point?"  
  
"Um—avoiding an extra 300 calories?"  
  
She rolled her eyes, chugging her own sugar-laden Coke.  
  
He raised a finger. "It has a slightly higher caffeine content then regular Coke."  
  
"Hmm. Well, that almost makes it worth it," she said. "But if you really wanted the extra caffeine you'd just get coffee. Or Red Bull."  
  
"Fine. I drink Diet Coke because I like Diet Coke. Is that a good enough reason for you?"  
  
She shrugged. "It'll have to be. Weirdo."  
  
At least she didn't sound mad at him anymore, like she had during the last two days of EBTF meetings. Maybe she really had just needed to blow off some steam. "So—are we good now?" he asked tentatively. "Because I wasn't sure, you know, with the whole budget thing. I know it didn't turn out how you'd hoped."  
  
She sighed, looking aimlessly out over the rows of arcade games. "No. It didn't. Another six months of _maintenance mode_ is the last thing I wanted for my department. I want to be out there doing good, and providing real service for the community, you know?"  
  
Ben nodded. He really did know. Teen-mayor Benji Adams would have spit on "maintenance mode," and kicked it and stomped on it. But teen-mayor Benji Adams had also run the town budget into the ground. Sometimes the cautious move was the right one. _Not that I've been terribly cautious this past year. The cautious move would have been to quit Everson's as soon as I suspected wrongdoing. Instead, I went to the FBI._  
  
"You do have one, possible, option," he said slowly, almost afraid to speak the words. He didn't want to give Leslie false hope.  
  
Immediately she sat up a little straighter, a desperate gleam in her eye. "What? What is it?"  
  
He took a deep breath. "Well, if you can come up with project ideas that produce revenue—and I mean _significant_ revenue—projects that will both pay for themselves _and_ produce a profit, then that profit can be redirected into a fund for other Parks projects."  
  
Leslie looked about ready to leap out of her chair in excitement. Ben held up a hand in warning. "But the revenue will have to come in over a very short term—we couldn't float the money for big projects for more than a month or two before paying it off with new revenue. And even then, it's a long shot. You'd have to convince Paul of any project you undertake, and probably get outside sponsorship to help fund it in the first place. This won't be an easy task, Leslie, and it could still take a long time to build the fund up enough to reinstate your programs."  
  
"I don't care. I'm not scared of hard work."  
  
"No—I didn't think you were." He could almost see the sparks shooting off in her brain.  
  
"I have to get the whole gang together. We need to have a serious brainstorming session." She jumped to her feet and started pacing.  
  
"You know we couldn't pay anyone for their time. Only you and Ron are on the payroll until the budget crisis is resolved." He stayed in his seat, trying to keep a level head. Someone here had to.  
  
"I know. They won't mind. Trust me."  
  
And he did. None of them had been paid for their work on the concert, either, but they'd all shown up. He didn't much like the idea of people volunteering to do their normal jobs, only without pay. It was inspiring that Leslie could rally people like that, but it didn't feel very fair. Maybe he could do something about that . . .  
  
"Well, you could at least feed them to thank them for their help. Why not make your brainstorming session into a social event—a cook-out, or something?"  
  
"Perfect!" She pointed at him. "We can meet at Ann's house—"  
  
"Why Ann's?"  
  
"Because my place is a mess. And Ann and Ron can be in charge of the meat. I'll bring drinks and desserts. Can you and Chris bring some sides? You both cook, right?"  
  
He raised his eyebrows as she continued to pace. "You're inviting us?"   
  
"Of course." She looked at him like he was an idiot or something. "You guys have to keep us on track—let us know if you think our ideas will actually generate revenue—that's not something we used to have to worry about. Plus, Ann is starting to like Chris, so this will give her a chance to make up her mind whether she wants to go out with him or not. Oh—but don't tell him that."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it." Chris would be delighted to hear that he was finally wearing Ann down, but it would be more fun to let him find out on his own.  
  
Leslie finally sat back down, scooting her chair closer to him, until their knees almost brushed. And suddenly he felt like he was fourteen again, getting excited every time a cute girl came within touching distance. The atmosphere of the Pawnee Fun Zone did nothing to dispel that feeling.  
  
"Would it be weird to do this over the holiday weekend?" she asked.  
  
He nodded slowly. "Uh, yeah. It would. Let people relax over the holiday, Leslie. Besides, Chris and I are going to Indianapolis to visit friends."  
  
"Oh." She blinked a few times, a startled expression on her face. "All weekend?" She wasn't that great at hiding her emotions, and Ben could tell that his being gone bothered her.   
  
He knew he shouldn't let that realization thrill him, but he did.  
  
"Yeah." He nodded. "All weekend. Maybe we could do it next Tuesday or Thursday?"  
  
"Sure. Tuesday sounds good." She bounced her foot nervously.   
  
Ben smiled. "You don't want to wait that long, do you?"  
  
"No. No. It's okay."  
  
"How about Monday?"  
  
She sat up straighter and grinned. "Yes. Monday sounds great."  
  
"Okay. Monday."  
  
Their eyes met and held, and Ben knew in his gut that if they'd been somewhere less absurd than the snack bar of the Pawnee Fun Zone he would have leaned in to kiss her. And he also knew in his gut that it would be completely inappropriate. He was in charge of her budget, for one. And, like Chris had said, getting involved under false pretenses would be wrong. She would get hurt. He would get hurt. Damn, he hated when Chris was right.  
  
But more than that, he hated that he'd met someone like Leslie _now_. After his employer turned out to be a megalomaniacal psycho. After he gave up his freedom and safety for the cause of bringing down that employer. After he'd lost all faith in humanity. Because a part of him still couldn't help but think that she was too good to be true, and if he stuck around long enough his suspicion would be confirmed.  
  
He'd rather not have that happen. It would be better to keep her like this—a special, untouchable, inexplicably _good_ person that he could always think about when life got shitty. It would be far far better to keep her up on that pedestal, instead of letting things get too real.  
  
But he still couldn't help but wonder—if he _did_ lean in for a kiss, would she let him?  
  
That dangerous train of thought was cut off abruptly when her eyes darted to look at something over his shoulder, her face took on a suddenly icy cast, and she uttered a single word: "Pikitis."  
  
"What's a Pikitis?"  
  
"Pikitis isn't a what—he's a who. And he's walking this way."  
  
Who the hell could be freaking Leslie out like that? Ben swiveled in his chair to see a 17-ish teenage boy with disheveled blonde hair strolling their way.  
  
"Knope," called the kid. "What a surprise seeing you here. Is this a new boyfriend? That's a shame. I was really rooting for you and the cop to make it."  
  
Leslie shot to her feet. "Watch your mouth, Pikitis. My personal life is none of your business."  
  
The kid leaned toward her. "You made it my business when you got your boyfriend to arrest me."  
  
Ben wasn't sure whether he was more shocked by the fact that Leslie looked about ready to have a throwdown with a snotty kid, or by all the mentions of her cop boyfriend. She wasn't still dating him—was she?  
  
 _No. Get your priorities straight, man!_ He chided himself.  
  
Standing up, he tried to interject, "Hey, Leslie, is—uh—everything okay?"  
  
"Everything's fine, dude," said the kid. "I'm just catching up with my old friend, Knope. She and I have a history."  
  
Leslie glared daggers at the boy. "The only thing that's going to be history is your ass—when I hand it to you in the laser tag arena."  
  
The kid raised his eyebrows. "Really? This is how you want to do this, Knope?"  
  
"Yeah." She nodded vehemently. "It is."  
  
"Fine." The kid smirked. "I'll see you in the briefing room." He turned around and sauntered back to his group of friends.  
  
What the hell? This was clearly another of those Pawnee mysteries that Ben was not yet privy to.  
  
Leslie stomped toward the cash register, and Ben hastened to follow. "Um—are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. "This Pikitis guy is just a kid—"  
  
Leslie wheeled to face him. "Greg Pikitis is not just any kid. He's the living hellspawn of Satan. He's to Pawnee what the Joker is to Gotham, and the only thing that stands in his way, is _me_."  
  
Ben suspected the mature response right now would be disappointment or disapproval of Leslie stooping to consider a teenager her arch-nemesis, but he must have not felt particularly mature right then, because he was actually pretty turned-on by Leslie equating herself with Batman.  
  
She paid for another round of laser tag, and Ben trailed along behind as they waited for the briefing room to open up. After a minute of watching her shoot dirty looks at Pikitis, Ben finally worked up the nerve to ask her a question. "So—uh—you were dating a cop?"  
  
Her mouth ticked up into a slight smile as she turned to look up at him. "Yeah. Dave. But we broke up last December when he moved to California. We're not really in touch anymore. I wasn't up to doing the whole long-distance thing. So I'm single now. Very single." She tapped a nervous tattoo on her thighs.  
  
"Okay. Yeah. The, uh, long-distance thing can be pretty hard." Yet another item to add to the list of reasons why he shouldn't let himself fall for Leslie.  
  
"Yeah. Yep. Uh-huh." She looked away from his gaze, rocking on her heels. "Or maybe he just wasn't the right one."  
  
 _What the hell is_ that _supposed to mean?_  
  
Ben didn't have long to speculate. The doors to the briefing room were flung open and they were ushered inside along with Pikitis and his gang.   
  
Immediately Leslie took charge, ignoring the normal rules-of-safe-play rehash that the Fun Zone dude usually did.   
  
"Okay—I'm here to destroy Greg Pikitis," she said from the front of the room. "Everyone who wants to oppose him, go to that side of the room." She pointed. "And everyone who is fool enough to support the Pikitis and his Death Eaters can go over there." She pointed to the other side of the room.  
  
Ben watched in awe as eleven pimply teens joined Leslie on the "good side" of the room, while only five stuck with Greg (poor kid must have a hell of a reputation). Before he knew it Leslie had chosen green for her team color (because red was apparently the "bad" color), bribed the Fun Zone dude to give them an extra 5 minutes for "tactical organization," divided their team into three squads (one under her leadership, one under Ben's, and one under the leadership of some kid she knew from the Eagle Scout project she helped him organize—did she know _everyone_?) and enlisted Ben to devise a battle plan.  
  
If anyone had asked Ben two months earlier what he expected his time in Witness Protection to be like, luring a teen-nemesis into a well-planned laser tag ambush with the most passionately driven woman he'd ever met would never have crossed his mind. Yet, as he and his well-organized squad of teens rained electronic death down on Pikitis and his gang, he wouldn't have changed a thing.  
  
Ben hadn't had this much fun in—well—he didn't know how long.  
  
Naturally, the green team prevailed. With Leslie as their leader, how could they have failed?  
  
Back in the lobby, Pikitis scowled while the green team exchanged numerous high-fives and Leslie engaged in some rather over the top trash-talking. Ben just grinned and shook his head. If she brought this same never-say-die attitude to saving her department's programs, she'd find a way to not only save them, but to expand them.  
  
"This isn't over, Knope," said Pikitis ominously before disappearing into the labyrinth of the arcade.  
  
Leslie folded her arms and shook her head after him. "We'll see about that."  
  
Ben couldn't stop smiling as he walked her back out to her car. She stopped at her car door and turned to face him.  
  
"Well."   
  
"Well," he replied. "That was fun."  
  
She smiled up at him. "Yeah. It was. We should do it again, sometime."  
  
"I'd like that."  
  
They hovered like that for a minute, smiling at each other. In a world where he'd actually moved to Indiana and his life wasn't in jeopardy, that absolutely would have been the moment when he would have kissed her. He even found himself leaning toward her a little in anticipation. But then the voice of reason in the back of his head kicked in and he pulled back.  
  
"Okay. I guess I'll see you at work tomorrow."  
  
Her smile faltered a little. "Sure. See you tomorrow."  
  
He nodded, and turned to walk to his own car without looking back. No good would come of looking back.  
  
***  
  
When Chris arrived at work Friday morning, he found a slim dark-haired young woman already waiting in his office, her feet propped up on the meeting table.  
  
What a surprise! Andy would be delighted.  
  
With a broad grin, he pointed at her. "April Ludgate!"  
  
"Yeah. My mom said you had a job for me." She studied her fingernails intently, deliberately refusing to meet Chris's gaze. What a peculiar way of greeting a prospective employer.  
  
"I do indeed. My partner, Ben, and I are in need of an assistant, and you come with the highest of recommendations from Ron Swanson."  
  
"Whatever. Will I be getting the same pay as before?"  
  
Chris arched an eyebrow. "Yes. Your pay will be the same. But we won't be able to resume your benefits until the budget crisis is resolved. Are you interested?"  
  
"Sure. I like money. Do you need me to start today?" She continued to stare at her fingernails.  
  
Chris knitted his brows. What a unique young woman. He couldn't yet see why Andy was so besotted with her. Perhaps he'd figure it out once he got to know her better. "Not necessary. Go enjoy the holiday weekend with your friends, and I'll see you bright and early Monday morning."  
  
"Fine." She swung her feet down to the ground and stood, finally meeting Chris's eyes with a disinterested gaze. "See you Monday."   
  
Without another word she left the office.  
  
Huh. One thing was certain—April looked certain to provide just as much of a fascinating diversion as Andy did.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter originally published on Live Journal in February 2012. So it took me so long to update - I got distracted!

As nameless strangers milled all around him and fireworks exploded overhead, the thunderous sound reverberating through Ben’s head, he realized that he didn’t feel even the tiniest hint of panic. In fact, he hadn’t had a panic attack in over a week.  
  
Apparently the shooting therapy was working. Or maybe it was just time and distance finally having an effect. Or the Krav Maga class. (He’d spent the morning with Chris practicing the moves they learned on Wednesday. It was actually pretty fun.) Or maybe it was Pawnee, and the way he felt more at home in that quirky too-bizarre-to-be-true town than he had anywhere else since Partridge.  
  
Or maybe it was Leslie.  
  
Ben sighed and leaned back on his elbows in the grass where he sat watching the fireworks. Chris was about a dozen yards away flirting with some pretty women, but Ben didn’t feel inclined to join him. Instead, he watched the sky and tried to search his mind for a solution to the Leslie problem.  
  
He couldn’t deny anymore that what he felt for her was something stronger than friendship. In the month that he’d known her she’d somehow wormed her way deep into his consciousness. Every day when he planned his discussion points for the EBFT, he found himself wondering what Leslie’s take on his suggestions would be, and he sometimes altered those suggestions before even presenting them, just to make them more “Leslie-approved.” And every evening he found himself wondering where she was, what she was doing, and, most importantly, who she was with.  
  
He hadn’t been this infatuated with someone in years.  
  
And the timing couldn’t possibly be worse.  
  
As another volley of colorful explosions filled the sky, he pulled out his phone. Sure enough, he had another text from Leslie about the cook-out. The eighth—or was it ninth?—that day. And somehow, even though the texts were mostly about planning details, she managed to make each of them sound flirty. Not good. A one-way infatuation he could handle. But all signs were pointing toward mutual interest—a fact that would have thrilled him under normal circumstances. But circumstances were far from normal.  
  
He closed his eyes and let himself picture Leslie’s face the way it had looked that night in the parking lot after their laser tag outing. God, she’d looked beautiful.  
  
There was no easy solution to this problem.   
  
***  
  
Leslie was shocked when Ben actually showed up late— _late!_ —to the EBFT meeting Monday morning. She didn’t even have time to talk to him one on one until lunch, and by then she was about ready to explode from stress. Yes, he’d emailed from Indy to affirm that he and Chris would have everything ready for the cook-out, but he hadn’t replied to any of her texts since then. What was up with that?   
  
“Ben Ben Ben!” She ran up to the front of the meeting room as most of the other committee members filed out.  
  
“Hi.” He smiled. Okay. That seemed normal enough.  
  
“Leslie Knope!” Chris joined them. “I am so excited for your cook-out tonight, at the home of your lovely friend Ann Perkins. I’m making two salads—one will be mixed baby greens, and the other will be quinoa and black beans.”  
  
Leslie tried to restrain her gag reflex. “That sounds great, Chris. I can’t wait to try them.”  
  
“Excellent. I love cook-outs. But now, I’m off. I’m meeting Andy Dwyer for lunch.” With a grin he strode out of the room.  
  
Leslie turned to Ben, trying to hold down her panic. “What’s queen-waa? Does it have sugar?”  
  
Ben grimaced. “I’m not sure. And probably not.”  
  
Leslie scrunched her forehead. This is why Ben should have answered her texts yesterday. “Please tell me you’re bringing real food. Please?”  
  
“Don’t worry. I’m making potato salad, baked beans, and guacamole with chips.”   
  
She let out her breath in relief. “Thank god. Ron is making burgers, Ann has some barbeque-sauced chicken to cook, and I was baking all day yesterday. I have brownies, two cakes, and two kinds of cookies. That’ll be enough, won’t it?”  
  
“Um, yes. That would be enough for twice as many people. Maybe even for three times as many.”  
  
Simple, naïve Ben. She had to remind herself that he was still new here. “You clearly haven’t been to a party with Ron. Or Andy. Or Jerry! Those guys can pack it away—trust me. And they won’t be filling up on keen-wa and baby greens, either.”  
  
“Leslie—it’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”  
  
She huffed. He might have an adorable face, but he still got condescending once in a while. “Sure. Fine. The whole future of my department rests on the ideas we’ll come up with tonight, but no big deal. I don’t have to worry. Whatever.”  
  
“Leslie,” he said, stepping a little closer to her—reminding her that half the reason she felt so stressed was because she thought the reason he never texted her back yesterday was that he was too busy making out with Tonya-from-Indy. “We’ll come up with some good ideas. I’m sure we will. Don’t worry so much."  
  
Ha. Like that was even possible.  
  
Even with stepping out a touch early for the day (which really sucked, because she missed out on the chance to make the closing argument on her case for more frequent custodial cleanings in the Senior Center restrooms), Leslie still felt rushed and overwhelmed as she loaded her baked goods into her car and headed to Ann's house.  
  
Revenue. She somehow had to get her entire gang of co-workers to come up with ideas that could produce _revenue_. Otherwise, her department would be gutted for the foreseeable future. She'd spent the whole weekend trying to come up with revenue generating ideas (except for the moments when she was choosing baked goods recipes or wondering what Ben might be doing with Tonya-from-Indy), and she still wasn't sure if any of her ideas were actually capable of generating the kind of revenue that Ben had talked about. They had to come up with something good tonight, or the rest of the summer was going to suck big time. And maybe the fall, too. The suckage might even continue on until the winter.   
  
Tonight was her chance to stop that.  
  
She only had to rearrange the chairs and tables in Ann's back yard twice to get things configured just right. Then Ann helped her display the desserts to best advantage and to get the coolers full of drinks set out. "Okay. That should be enough beer. Do you think we should have bought more beer? Or some wine coolers—those are good for cook outs, right?"  
  
Ann rested a hand on Leslie's shoulder. "We don’t need any wine coolers. The beer and soda will be just fine."   
  
Leslie nodded, but her stomach still felt twisted in knots.  
  
Jerry was the first to arrive. He brought a pack of wine coolers. Leslie suddenly felt much better about not buying any.  
  
Standing in the kitchen, she squeezed Ann's hand. "The people who really matter are about to start showing up. Have you got your thinking cap on, Ann?"  
  
Ann squeezed her hand back. "It's strapped on tight, and ready to go."  
  
Leslie heard a knock on the door.  
  
Showtime.  
  
***  
  
"Are you sure about this, man? I mean, cook outs are awesome, and all, but I don't think Ann's house is really the best place to woo April, what with Ann being the whole reason April is so mad at me in the first place." Andy frowned nervously, clutching the bowl of quinoa-black bean salad in his hands as he stared at Ann's door.  
  
Chris gripped Andy's shoulder, putting on his brightest smile. He understood Andy's nervousness, but now wasn't the time to back down. Now was the time to be bold. "You've got to face your fears, and overcome them. Remember—your actions are the key to obtaining your heart's desire. Now, do you want April back, or don't you?"  
  
Andy nodded, a look of determination in his eyes. "Do. Yes. Definitely _do_ do. Not doo-doo like dog crap. Do like I _do_ want to _do_ April."  
  
Chris sighed. He'd tried his best. Now it was time to set Andy on his own path, and hope for a positive outcome. However, based on April's rather cold behavior in the office that day, he feared that Andy's chances weren't good. Though, to be fair, Leslie had indicated that April always acted that way.  
  
Chris knocked on the door. Moments later a grinning Leslie Knope answered with Ann Perkins standing just behind her.  
  
Ann looked lovelier than ever. It was such a pleasure to finally have a chance to get to know her when she was sober. And to visit her home! Homes could reveal so much about the people living in them. Ann certainly seemed to like things cozy and floral. Though her furniture placement could stand a little rearrangement to help redefine her bagua. But no matter—it was still a huge treat to be there.  
  
She seemed delighted with the wine he brought as a gift, and gave him one of the prettiest smiles he'd seen in weeks. Chris barely noticed when Andy and Leslie vanished into the backyard.  
  
"The salad looks good," said Ann. She glanced around furtively. "Don't let Leslie hear me say this, but I really like salad, and that one looks excellent. Where did you buy the greens? My regular grocery store never has stuff that nice."  
  
Chris sang the praises of Grain N' Simple for a few minutes. "I love health food. I do everything I can to keep my body healthy. Nothing is better for a healthy spirit or healthy mind than a healthy body!"  
  
Ann nodded. "I actually agree. People here in Pawnee eat way too much fat and sugar, and we have horrible obesity rates. Not to mention the type two diabetes. I keep telling Leslie to cut back on the sugar, but she never listens."  
  
Chris had plenty to say on the general unhealthiness of the average Pawnee resident, and, amazingly, Ann seemed eager to listen. It seemed that his persistence with her was finally paying off.  
  
This was literally the best cook out he'd ever been too. He couldn't wait to see what happened next.  
  
***  
  
Ben managed to juggle two serving bowls and one bag of chips up to Ann's door, and ended up having to knock with his elbow. It didn't take long for Leslie to answer, and she already had that stressed-out slightly-crazy look in her eyes.  
  
"Hi," said Ben. "Sorry I'm la—"  
  
"What took you so long!" said Leslie, ushering him in. "You're almost the last person here, and things are already getting tense out there. Tom keeps showing off his girlfriend Lucy to his ex-wife Wendy, and Andy keeps saying mean things to Ann, which is totally not fair because Ann's apologized a million times, and April isn't here yet, and Donna is already bored, and Chris is trying to convince Ann not to put barbeque sauce on the chicken because it adds too many extra calories, and I haven't started talking about Parks business yet because I wanted you here to back me up!"  
  
"Okayyy." He was only twenty minutes late—it was amazing how quickly Leslie could get worked up about stuff like this. And he'd thought that taking a little extra time to check the seasonings on the potato salad and to add more brown sugar to the baked beans would be worth it. Leslie seemed to be rather fond of extra sugar. "First—why is Tom's ex-wife here?"  
  
"Because Ron is dating her," replied Leslie, give him a look like he was a total idiot for not knowing something that was clearly common knowledge around here.  
  
"Well. That's not awkward at all." Seriously, what was Ron thinking? But onto other things—like calming Leslie down so they could have a productive and fun evening. "Anyway, Leslie, you need to relax a little. Let everyone enjoy their dinner before you start talking business."  
  
"Relax? _Relax_? The whole purpose behind my department's existence is on the line, and you want me to relax?"  
  
Clearly Ben had put his foot in his mouth. Again. "Look—I know this meeting is important. But these people all have your back, and so do I. We'll come up with some great ideas. So can I, uh, set this stuff down? And the crock pot with the beans is still in my car. I'll have to go back for it."  
  
Leslie took a deep breath. "Yes. Of course. Sorry. I just—I hate feeling so helpless when it comes to saving these programs I care so much about."  
  
Back in his pre-Pawnee days Ben would have been annoyed by Leslie's obsession with trivial programs. But now he smiled a little, wistfully thinking that the world would be a better place if it had more people who cared about things like youth sports and community education. "Yeah. I know."  
  
The faint smile-lines around Leslie's eyes showed back up. "You think I'm being silly, don't you."  
  
Ben adjusted his grip on the potato salad bowl. "A little—but not for the reason you probably think. I think it's great that you care so much about this stuff. But you don't realize how much these people are rooting for you to succeed—myself included. We're here because we care, too. And with this many people caring this much, we're bound to find some kind of success." God. Just two months ago he _never_ would have even _thought_ something like this, let alone said it. This place. This woman. They did things to him. And he liked it.  
  
The radiant smile she gave him in return for his sentiment somehow managed to amp up the level of his infatuation for her even higher. He was in serious trouble.  
  
After successfully depositing his armful of food out in yard, and making a quick trip back to his car for the baked beans, Ben rejoined Leslie who was talking to Ron, Andy, and an unfamiliar brunette. Leslie introduced her as Wendy. Ben blinked in surprise. She was really pretty—much prettier than he expected for Tom's ex. He could see why Ron had taken an interest. In fact, she was very much the type Ben always used to go for.  
  
Until he met Leslie.  
  
He wasn't really "going for" Leslie. He knew that he probably shouldn't. However, it was hard to make himself accept that conclusion. He'd spent most of the past two days wrestling with that very dilemma—trying to convince himself to be content with friendship when not-so-deep-down he really wanted more.   
  
And as much as he enjoyed being friends with Leslie, he was starting to wonder if it might be better for both of them if he cut back on the time he spent with her. Better to do that now, before he got even more attached.  
  
After a few minutes he drifted away from Leslie and started circulating among the other attendees. In spite of the role he and Chris had played in all of these people being out of work for the time being, they seemed very friendly and welcoming.  
  
From across the yard, Ben noticed that Leslie seemed to be at least attempting to take his advice and relax while everyone ate.  
  
About thirty minutes later nearly everyone had finished their dinner when some final guests made their appearance—April Ludgate sauntered into the yard with a good-looking Hispanic man.  
  
Andy bounded toward her immediately, beaming. "Ludgate! You're here! I was starting to worry. I really need to talk to you about you know who doing you know what." Andy pointed over his shoulder at Ann, who frowned. Ben cringed on behalf of them all. April had seemed very cold and sarcastic all day—he had a feeling Andy wasn't in for a positive reception.  
  
"I'm so sorry about it," Andy continued. "I didn't even like it. It meant nothing."   
  
April folded her arms and shrugged. "Whatever. I wouldn't worry about it. It's totally fine."  
  
Andy laughed. "Really?"  
  
Ben had a sinking feeling in his gut. Chris must have felt the same way, because Ben saw him casually edging toward Andy, a concerned look on his face.   
  
"Yeah," said April. "Why should I care what you do with your mouth? It's none of my business."  
  
Andy's smile faded. "Huh?"  
  
April put on a cold, forced smile. She raised her voice. "Hey everyone. Meet my new boyfriend, Eduardo. I brought him home from Venezuela with me."  
  
"Nu-uh," said Andy, a disbelieving look on his face.  
  
April smirked at him and took Eduardo's hand, leading him past Andy and toward the food.  
  
Ben watched as Chris and Leslie converged on Andy and led him back into the house as April paraded her "boyfriend" around to show him off to everyone.  
  
Though Ben felt bad for Andy, April really was little more than a kid. Andy should have seen this coming.  
  
And this was a huge distraction from the purpose of the meeting. At this rate, Leslie would never find the revenue-generating ideas that she needed.  
  
Ben waited for a few minutes, but Leslie didn't come back out. Of course she didn't. She was exactly the type of person to put the emotional needs of her friend ahead of her career ambitions. Fortunately, someone else here could step up to the plate.  
  
He took a deep breath, turned to face the group of people sitting and standing around the yard, and then raised his voice. "Hey everybody. I'm glad you all came out tonight to support Leslie and your department. And I know that you don't really know me, and you might possibly resent me for my role in temporarily suspending your employment, but, uh . . ." Okay. That probably wasn't the best way to get started. Time to change course. "Uh, Chris and I are big fans of your whole department, and all the great services you offer the community. Unfortunately, Parks and Rec isn't a high priority department, so those services are at risk. Leslie made it clear to us that each and every one of you is indispensable, so we have no intention of laying any of you off." God, he hoped he could keep that promise. As of their last review of the Parks budget, that had been their decision. But Paul still had the final word on the matter. The news did seem to put a smile on everyone's face.  
  
Good. This might just work after all. "So, to save your jobs most of the services will be cut. Unless, we, as a group, can think of some great revenue-generating projects. That means we need to start brainstorming ideas for projects that will not only pay for themselves, but earn your department a profit to help fund your regular services, like youth sports and community education. So—" Ben clapped his hands together. "While Leslie is detained, I think it would be great to start brainstorming and come up with some ideas that we can share with her when she gets back out here. Who wants to go first?"  
  
Jerry looked terrified. Tom looked bored. April was too busy snuggling with Eduardo. And Ron looked, well, like Ron. In other words, disinterested.  
  
Grasping at straws, Ben turned to his last remaining choice. "How about you, Donna? Any ideas?"  
  
Donna pursed her lips, rolling her eyes skyward. "Ummm—luxury dog parks?"  
  
Ben arched his eyebrows. "How will luxury dog parks generate revenue?"  
  
"Charge a membership fee. And charge a fine for any pooping."  
  
Ben gritted his teeth. Leslie was right when she said her people weren't used to thinking about revenue. "Okay. Interesting idea."  
  
"Terrible idea," countered Tom. "The slobs in this town will never pay for something as exclusive and cutting edge as a luxury dog park. No—what Pawnee really needs is a high-end performance venue, to draw in big name acts."  
  
Ben folded his arms and sighed. "And just how much might something like that cost?"  
  
Tom shrugged. "Not much. Two, maybe three hundred million."  
  
"Yeah. I don't think so."  
  
"So you're really cutting youth sports?" said Wendy suddenly.  
  
Ben nodded. "If we can't come up with revenue generating ideas, yeah, we are."  
  
Wendy shook her head. "That's horrible news. The childhood obesity rates here in Pawnee are a constant concern for everyone in the pediatric departments at Saint Joseph's. Youth sports is one of the last things preventing it from ballooning into a full-blown epidemic."  
  
"Sports are an effective character-building exercise for young people," said Ron. "I just don't see why we can't leave it up to kids to organize their own sporting opportunities. Why is it government's job to foot the bill?"  
  
"Ron—youth sports are a time-honored local government tradition," said Wendy.  
  
Immediately Tom spoke up. "Yeah, Ron. Get with it. What kids in this town are smart enough to organize their own sports teams? None of them. That's who."  
  
"Ron," said Ben, "I agree with Wendy and Tom. I played little league and soccer when I was a kid, and it was lots of fun. I made some great friends and stayed in shape. There's no way that would have happened without government involvement."  
  
"Well, that's all beside the point if we don't have the money," said Ron, folding his arms and glaring.  
  
"You know," said Ann, pointing at Wendy, "weren't some of the public outreach people looking for new ways to spread the word about the childhood obesity problem? Maybe Saint Joseph's could do some sort of joint event with the Parks Department to raise money for youth sports."  
  
"Yes!" Wendy grinned and pointed back at Ann. "Absolutely. I'm sure they'd be interested."  
  
It seemed that the best ideas were coming from people who weren't official members of Leslie's dream team, but it didn't matter. This was exactly the right direct for the discussion to head. "This is perfect—exactly the sort of thing we need to do. So let's see if we can come up with some ideas for events that Saint Joseph's might be willing to co-sponsor . . ."  
  
***  
  
Poor Andy. Leslie rubbed his shoulder. "It's gonna be okay. I'm sure this Eduardo guy is just a fling."  
  
"I agree," said Chris, sitting on Andy's other side on the couch. "April is clearly acting out of hurt and anger. Eduardo is nothing more than a misguided attempt to hurt you the way you hurt her."  
  
Andy shook his head. "No. It's too late. She hates me, and now she's dating the handsomest dude in the world, present company excluded."   
  
Chris smiled. "Why thank you!"  
  
"I meant me," Andy intoned glumly.  
  
"Andy—you can't give up," said Leslie (while possibly thinking not only of Andy but of her department and the difficult task ahead of her). "When your back is up against the wall and the odds are stacked against you—you have to swing your hardest, damn it. You go big or you go home. You don't seem like the kind of guy who goes home."  
  
Andy nodded with determination. "I'm not. I don't really have a home."  
  
"Great! So go get her!"  
  
"Okay. Thanks, Leslie!" Andy jumped to his feet and turned to face her. "April is my soulmate, and I'm not giving up! I'm gonna go back out there and win her over, even if I have to fight that Mexican dude!"  
  
"Yay! Wait—no," said Leslie. "No fighting. Absolutely no fighting."  
  
"I agree with Leslie," said Chris. "No fighting. But I also agree that you absolutely should not give up on your pursuit of your soulmate. However, this cookout is not the appropriate time or place. You need to go home and strategize. There will be plenty of opportunities in the weeks ahead, and I will be by your side every step of the way."  
  
"Thanks, dude," Andy smiled again, warming Leslie's heart. He was down, but not out.  
  
"Now, let me give you a ride home," said Chris.  
  
Andy shook his head. "Naw. Burly's place is just a few blocks away. I'll walk. You need to stay here and see if you can score with Ann."  
  
Leslie raised her eyebrows. She wondered how Ann would feel about this.  
  
Chris stood and patted Andy on the back. "That is so nice of you!"  
  
They walked Andy to the door, giving him a few more words of encouragement before sending him on his way.  
  
Leslie sighed. "God. I'm glad we cheered him up, but now we've lost most of an hour of prime brainstorming time. If we're running out of desserts Ron and Jerry might leave soon. I hope I made enough desserts."  
  
"I'm sure your friends will still be ready and eager to help out," said Chris as they headed to the backyard. But Leslie wasn't so sure.  
  
When she stepped outside her eyes widen in shot and her heart leaped in her chest.   
  
Ben stood in front of the portable whiteboard she'd set up near the fence, and a whole list of ideas covered the board. He waved the dry erase marker around like a baton as he directed the barrage of comments still coming from their gathered friends.   
  
She blinked back the sudden tears of happiness that pricked at the corners of her eyes at the sight.   
  
Ben caught sight of her and smiled. "Hi—I hope you don't mind us starting without you. I just didn't want to waste any time."  
  
"No—that's great!" she replied, her heart leaping again. Okay. This made it official. She didn't just like Ben. She _like_ liked him.   
  
A lot.  
  
"So what've you guys come up with?" she asked, striding across the yard.  
  
"Well," replied Ben, "Wendy and Ann both think that Saint Joseph's would be willing to co-sponsor some sort of event to help raise funds for the city youth sports programs and to raise awareness of the childhood obesity problem at the same time, so we've been trying to think up what kind of events to pitch to them."  
  
It was a brilliant idea. Ann was such a beautiful, intelligent, wonderful nurse and friend. Leslie would have to be sure to tell her that, later.  
  
Chris walked up to the whiteboard and pointed at one of the listed ideas. "A 5K!" he said with a gleeful excitement in his voice. "I've helped organize several charity 5Ks in the past. This is perfect!"  
  
"It's my favorite idea, too," said Wendy.  
  
"The other idea we were leaning toward is some sort of carnival," said Ben, "but the upfront costs would be much lower for a 5K. And Ann suggested that we make it a run or walk event, instead of just a run."  
  
Leslie hated running. And jogging. But walking was nice. She liked to take long early morning walks, and had seen lots of other Pawnee residents doing the same thing. Brilliant, wonderful Ann was spot on to suggest walking. Maybe this really would work.  
  
They took a quick vote, and everyone agreed—they'd try the run/walk. After spending another hour organizing committees, and setting a meeting schedule to plan the event, the party broke up and people started heading home.  
  
Ben stayed to help Leslie and Ann clean up.  
  
"Good work today," he said, as they carried folding chairs back to Ann's garage.  
  
"Thanks. It was a really great start," said Leslie, with a decisive nod. "But we still didn't find a way to save community education, or any of our other annual events."  
  
"One thing at a time, Leslie," said Ben. "Focus on youth sports first, and then you can move onto something else. Just be patient and stay diligent and creative. In time you'll find a way to bring all your programs and events back. I'm sure of it."  
  
Ben was right. She didn't like having to wait, but between the EBTF and planning the 5K fundraiser she'd have her hands full.  
  
However, the next thing on her list wasn't another revenue generating project. It was finding a way to ask out the super-cute budget consultant who seemed more and more amazing every time she talked to him.  
  
She took a deep breath. "Did you have fun in Indy with your friends?"  
  
Ben leaned his folding chairs against the garage wall. "Sure. It was fun, I guess."  
  
Leslie's smile brightened. He hadn't sounded like a man who spent the weekend making out. "So, how do you know your friend—Tonya, was it?"  
  
"We worked together, before Chris and I got downsized and started our own consulting business."  
  
They headed back toward the backyard for another load of chairs. Okay, time to find out Ben's relationship status once and for all. "And the two of you are just friends? Right? Nothing going on there?"  
  
Ben looked at the ground and let out a nervous-sounding laugh. "No, no. Definitely nothing going on. She's more like a—a—a sister, or something. That's all."  
  
"Oh. Okay," replied Leslie, trying to sound as casual as possible, even though she really felt like breaking into a happy dance.  
  
So Ben was definitely single. But things could get messy if she tried getting involved with him while he was still directly in charge of the Parks budget. Fortunately, Chris had told her earlier that day that within four weeks he and Ben would step back from direct budget supervision and hand things over to Paul's control again. After that, they'd just be in an advisory position. Which, in her opinion, made Ben fair game.  
  
She could wait four more weeks. And in the meantime, she had the 5K fundraiser to help plan.  
  
Like Ben had said—one thing at a time.  
  
***  
  
Chris carried the last load of dirty dishes back into Ann's kitchen, where she stood loading the dishwasher.  
  
"Thanks," she said with a bright smile.  
  
What a truly lovely woman. Chris enjoyed her company. Very much. He only hoped she was starting to feel the same way about him.  
  
Ben and Andy were both wonderful friends, but it had been far too long since Chris had the regular company of a woman, and he sorely missed it.  
  
"You are very welcome, Ann Perkins," he said. "And let me say that you and Wendy Haverford were literally inspired tonight to come up with the idea of partnering with Saint Joseph's to save youth sports."  
  
Ann shrugged and looked back at her dishes, but her smile shone with radiant light. "We still have to convince our public outreach department to go along with it."  
  
"I have no doubt whatsoever in my mind that you will succeed."  
  
Ann turned off the water in her sink and wiped her hands on her jeans, looking up with an interesting and tantalizing expression in her eyes that made Chris's breath come slightly faster.  
  
"Do you want to go out to dinner sometime?" she asked.  
  
Chris felt warm all over. His persistence and determination had paid off. This would make a very inspiring story to share with Andy. And, more importantly, spending time with Ann might finally help him get over Kelsey. But he really shouldn't be thinking about Kelsey right now. Just Ann.  
  
"There is literally nothing on earth that would make me happier than going on a date with you," he replied. "How's tomorrow night?"  
  
Ann's smile grew even wider. "Tomorrow is perfect."  
  
"Good." Very good. He'd have to start planning his outfit once he got home. And choosing a restaurant. Maybe picking out some flowers?  
  
Ben and Leslie walked in through the back door laughing over a shared joke, and Chris's eyes darted over to them. Chris had seen Ben get in and out of several relationships over the course of the five years they'd known each other, and right now Ben wore the same look on his face that he always had at the beginning of a new relationship. Though Chris hadn't known Leslie for long, if he had to guess, he'd say that she was equally infatuated.  
  
Oh dear.  
  
Under normal circumstances, Chris would be delighted for his friends. But circumstances were far from normal.  
  
This was going to be a problem.  
  
***  
  
Ben sighed as he toted the mostly empty crock pot back into his condo. So—he'd officially just spent the entire evening working to help (and impress) the woman he wasn't supposed to date. He'd even put extra sugar in the baked beans for her, for god's sake. And she only took two bites. (He'd been watching.)  
  
Spending less time with her would definitely be the sensible thing to do. But every time he was near her, the last thing he wanted to be was sensible.  
  
In fact, after that night, Ben felt sure of two things. One, Andy Dwyer really needed to just get over April and move on. And two, as long as he lived in Pawnee it would be impossible to not be friends with Leslie.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally published on LiveJournal in March 2012

On Wednesday, Ann met Leslie in the courtyard for work. It had been another productive morning at the EBFT meeting, and between her city budget ideas and all the planning for the upcoming 5K (they were just waiting for the official go-ahead from St. Joe’s, but Wendy assured her they’d have it no later than Thursday) Leslie was swamped with work. And she was still trying to figure out the best way to give Ben the “I’m interested in dating you, but not until after you’re no longer in charge of my budget” signal. Was there a signal for that? But she always had time for Ann. Especially when she needed to hear the run-down on Ann’s date with Chris.  
  
Ann brought her a salad (Leslie only ate salad during her lunches with Ann—a small concession to make for such a great friend) and they sat down in the warm sun to chat.  
  
Leslie could tell by the smile on Ann’s face that things had gone well.  
  
“I think I really like him,” said Ann, beaming. “I mean, he’s a little intense, but in a good way. The world seems a little brighter and nicer when I’m with him. I don’t know. Does that sound silly?”  
  
Leslie shook her head. “Not at all. That’s how I feel when I’m with you.”  
  
“Aww. You’re sweet.”  
  
Leslie just smiled and started picking the crunchy noodles and mandarin oranges out of her Chinese chicken salad and popping them into her mouth. But really, no one was as sweet as Ann.   
  
“So,” said Leslie, “are you seeing him again soon?”  
  
“Yep.” Ann nodded, a glowing smile on her face. “I wanted to see him tonight, but he and Ben have some sort of martial arts class or something on Wednesdays. So we’re getting together on Thursday.”  
  
“Wow. So you two are off to a good start. Nice.” Leslie popped a few almonds into her mouth.  
  
Ann continued to grin as she munched on a forkful of lettuce. “I do think we’re off to a good start. I didn’t think I’d be ready to move on from Mark so soon, but after last night I think I might be. Anyway, what about you and Ben? I could tell you were turned on by the way he ran that meeting on Monday.” Ann put on a teasing grin.  
  
“Mmmm.” Leslie closed her eyes and lingered on the very pleasant memory of Ben’s smile when she saw his brainstorming lists. “He was really great. But nothing can happen yet. Not while I’m still on the EBFT.”  
  
Ann rolled her eyes and shook her head, stabbing a tomato. “I still don’t see why. You like him, and I’m pretty sure he likes you, too.”  
  
Leslie perked up. “You really think so?”  
  
“Yes. Unless he makes puppy-dog eyes at every woman he works with, which I really don’t think he does.”  
  
Leslie’s stomach felt fluttery again, and she was so distracted by the thought that Ben liked her, too, that some lettuce accidentally made it into her mouth along with a mandarin orange. She managed to choke it down. “Well, it’ll just have to wait. Right now Pawnee needs me to be an advocate for all the great services and public programs that are on the chopping block, and it’s been hard enough to keep my eyes on target with Ben leading every meeting looking the way he does. If we were actually dating, I might start to give in and let him cut things that matter. No—I need to stay sharp, and focused, and not compromise my work with personal entanglements.”  
  
“Fine.” Ann sighed. “But sticking it out for the next month probably won’t be easy.”  
  
No kidding. But Pawnee came first, and Leslie had to stick to her guns.  
  
She finished her salad (at least the good parts) and went back to afternoon session of the EBFT. The stomach flutters came back a few times when she locked eyes with Ben, but she stayed strong. Nevertheless, Ann was right. The next month wouldn’t be easy.   
  
Whatever. Leslie had never been scared of a challenge.  
  
***  
  
Ben had thought that committee-Leslie was intense, but he quickly learned that committee-Leslie was nothing compared to project-Leslie. Project-Leslie had the energy of five toddlers on a sugar binge, only without the need to stop for naps. And somehow project-Leslie had officially recruited him to be her right-hand man. (Ann was still her Girl Friday, but it seemed that she needed both).  
  
The rest of the month of July passed at break-neck speed, with every day packed with EBTF work, and every lunch, evening, and weekend filled with tasks for the 5K fundraiser.  
  
Ben found that while his attraction to Leslie didn’t at all wane while they worked together on the new project, it was easier to keep his attraction in check and under control while he was constantly busy than it had been back when he’d spent most of his free time lounging around his condo with nothing to do but dwell on his thoughts.  
  
Between contacting his portion of the list of families who’d participated in youth sports at any time in the last five years and contacting his assigned local businesses who might want to contribute, Ben began to understand why Leslie liked Pawnee so much, and how Pawnee had created someone like Leslie Knope.  
  
More than a dozen parents pledged their support after waxing eloquent about the importance of youth sports in preparing their kids to “kick those Eagletonian’s asses” at the high school level. And a handful of tearful parents related stories of their relatives (or themselves) struggling with diabetes, and how much they hoped youth sports would break their kids out of the cycle of obesity. On the other hand, plenty of people he talked to attacked him personally and viciously for daring to call them in the first place. The one thing they all had in common was passion and enthusiasm. No one could ever accuse the people of Pawnee of not caring.  
  
The small business owners he talked to were no different. They all displayed extraordinary enthusiasm and commitment to their chosen vocations, and most of them were eager to contribute to the 5K and help out their community (not to mention get some positive advertising at the same time. They _were_ businesspeople, after all).   
  
Ben got a particularly enthusiastic reaction to his pitch from the owner of Sue’s Salads, until he asked why she’d named her store “Sue’s Salads” when her name was Tonya. That earned him a particularly vicious glare and a lecture on the importance of alliteration when setting up a viable business plan. He managed to salvage the mess by ordering a large salad for lunch and praising it enthusiastically.  
  
He hit another speed bump at the magic shop when shop owner surprised him by springing out of a “magic cabinet” and yelling at him. The shock triggered a rather embarrassing panic attack (Ben’s first in several weeks), but he managed to play it off as indigestion and escaped to the restroom at the back of the shop where he collapsed in a hyperventilating heap. In the end even this seeming setback turned out okay. When Ben finally emerged from the restroom twenty minutes later, the shop owner felt so bad about scaring him that he pledged a sizable donation.  
  
As the Saturday of the 5K drew near, Leslie asked him how he liked working with the people of Pawnee. After a few moments of pondering, Ben answered honestly. “A lot of these people are weirdos. But they’re weirdos who care. I like it. It’s fun.”  
  
The glowing smile she gave him in return was awesome enough to stir up all the feelings he’d been trying so hard to repress. It took a two hour Krav Maga sparring session with Chris to get them back under control.  
  
***  
  
The ache of disappointment over the drastic government cuts began to ease as Leslie threw herself into the 5K project. Nothing warmed her heart like seeing all her friends come together to save something as valuable as youth sports. Ann and Wendy were doing wonders bringing the St. Joseph’s people into the mix, and all her Parks pals were going above and beyond to help, in spite of not getting paid for their work. Even Chris and Ben were doing great things to help, which totally contradicted their purpose of being in Pawnee.   
  
They were big city number crunchers called in to cut services, and here they were fighting to save one, all because of her. Well—not entirely because of her. Chris seemed to genuinely love 5Ks. (Leslie tried not to let it bug her, for Ann’s sake, but seriously. What kind of sane person loved running?) He also loved doing things to impress Ann. Ben, on the other hand, was a little more confusing. At times he seemed to be helping Leslie for the sake of their new friendship. Which was awesome. But the way he’d been hanging out with Ron and Andy, and even Tom, and the way he’d started talking about the people he’d met while helping with the 5K made her think that he might actually be starting to like Pawnee the same way she did.   
  
She tried not to dwell on it. Maybe he was just one of those adaptable people who found something to like about every place they lived. Or maybe between the layoff and the shooting he’d soured on big-city life. But every time he got that little twinkle in his eye while telling her about an interesting new Pawnee citizen that he’d met, or a new Pawnee business or landmark that he’d discovered, her heart did a little flip.  
  
None of the other guys she’d dated had cared about Pawnee the way she did. Not that she was dating Ben. Not yet.  
  
The fact that things were heating up between Ann and Chris didn’t help matters any. They were going on two or three dates a week, and did all kinds of flirty cute stuff at every meeting for the 5K. Leslie was happy for Ann. Of course she was happy for Ann, just like she’d been happy for Ann and Mark.  
  
Leslie wasn’t one to get jealous or envious. But seeing Ann get caught up in exactly the sort of relationship she wanted for herself wasn’t always easy. There were lots of days when Leslie had to literally bite her tongue to stop herself from asking Ben out. She had to remind herself to be patient. Pawnee needed her to be strong.  
  
The one thing that bugged her the most—the one thing that nagged at her—was why hadn’t Ben asked _her_ out? She knew exactly what was stopping her. But what was stopping _him_?  
  
***  
  
Ben sighed as Andy left the office, once more rebuffed by April.  
  
In the three and a half weeks she’d been working for him, Ben had gotten heartily sick of the April-Andy-Eduardo show. The girl had both men parading in and out of the office several times a day.  
  
Sure, she still managed to do an adequate job taking messages, running errands, taking notes, and keeping papers organized. But the constant relationship drama wasn’t something that Ben condoned bringing into the office environment.  
  
He stood up and ambled over to her desk. “Hey, uh, I feel like I need to say something about this guy thing you’ve got going.”  
  
April arched an eyebrow at him, clicking the button on her pen unceasingly.  
  
“So,” Ben rocked on his heels, “I think you need to work on keeping your personal life out of the workplace. It’s disruptive and unprofessional.”  
  
“Like when Chris and Ann do couples yoga right in front of me?” said April in a deadpan voice. “Or like when you and Leslie get all giddy about your stupid jokes instead of working?”  
  
Ben’s jaw dropped. Okay—April clearly paid more attention to what was going on around her than she usually let on. “Uh—well—that’s—it’s just—you—” He sighed and gave up searching for an appropriate response. “How about you get back to work?”  
  
April scowled. “Fine. I’ll get my work done faster if you stop interrupting me.”  
  
Ben nodded and shook his head as he headed back to his desk.  
  
What did Andy see in her, anyway? And what exactly had she been getting at by mentioning him and Leslie?  
  
***  
  
As the final EBFT drew to a close on the penultimate day of July, Leslie closed her padfolio with a satisfied grin. She done her best to defend and preserve the most important services offered by the city of Pawnee, and she was proud of her work. Now it was time to focus on the 5K coming up next week, getting everyone in her department back to work, and brainstorming ways to reinstate other Parks programs.  
  
Oh—and time to try initiating some more romance-oriented social outings with a certain budget consultant now that she would no longer be working under his supervision.  
  
Putting on her brightest smile, Leslie strode up to Ben as the task force members filtered out of the room. “Hey, you. So, we did it.”  
  
He smiled back as he finished stacking all his papers and sticking them into his briefcase. “We did.”  
  
“Should I call my people and get them ready to come back to work next week?” Leslie couldn’t wait to get the gang back together permanently, instead of just for the 5K planning meetings.  
  
“Uh—sorry to disappoint, but we’re not brining any workers back for a few more weeks. We have to review the task force findings with Paul and finalize the budget, first.”  
  
Leslie’s smile vanished. “Wait—what? I thought we did finalize the budget.”  
  
“I’m afraid not,” replied Ben, holding his briefcase in front of him like a shield. “Um—we finished out official budget recommendations to pass along to Paul. Now Chris and I are going to sit down with Paul and go through the whole thing line by line. We might be done as early as next Friday, but Paul’s already floating the idea of keeping the unpaid leaves going until mid-August, since every extra week of leave saves the city thousands of dollars.” He shrugged and put on an apologetic face. “Sorry.”  
  
“But I had plans,” insisted Leslie. Why hadn’t he warned her? They were supposed to be friends. “I already bought a welcome back banner, and I was going to get donuts and confetti. And I’d scheduled five brainstorming sessions, and seven planning meetings, and—”  
  
“I’m sorry. I’ve known you for two months now, and I should have known you’d have—plans—for getting everyone back to work. I should have made this process a little more clear to you earlier. That’s my bad, and I apologize.”  
  
Leslie bit back her instinctively harsh retort, because he did look genuinely apologetic. But she couldn’t stop herself from frowning a little as she said, “Fine. Apology accepted, I guess.”  
  
The corners of his lips twitched up. “And you don’t have to cancel your plans. Just postpone them. Plus, since it won’t take two Parks directors to supervise park and facility maintenance for the next few weeks, I already talked to Ron and he graciously offered to go on leave and let you take over for him.”  
  
“Oh thank god,” she said. That problem hadn’t even occurred to her. What if she’d been forced to go on leave? She wasn’t sure she could have born it. So Ben got _that_ right, at least. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad friend after all.  
  
“And in the meantime, if you get desperate to run any ideas past someone or to do a little hardcore brainstorming, my office door is always open for you.”  
  
Leslie beamed. Not only did Ben seem like exactly the kind of guy who would rock at impromptu brainstorming sessions, this also felt like it might be a stealth invitation to spend more time together. Maybe the only reason he hadn’t asked her out yet was because he was shy about it. Well, she’d find a way to get him over that sometime soon. Probably. Hopefully. Unless she was completely misreading things.  
  
No. This thing had to be mutual. And she was determined to find out for sure.  
  
***  
  
The weeks of watching Chris’s giddiness as he got closer to Ann intensified the growing ache in Ben’s heart. He’d told himself a million times that getting involved with Leslie would be a bad idea—but that didn’t change the fact that he was lonely and frustrated, and he’d somehow found himself falling for a woman and her town. As bad an idea as being with her might be on paper, at times he let himself wonder if somehow he might be able to find a way to make it work.  
  
The Thursday before the 5K, Marshal Lewis and Marshal Burdette came to town for their monthly check in.  
  
After the usual assurances that all was well, Burdette asked, “Well, we finally found a therapist in Eagleton that’s been cleared for you to use, if you still need him. How’s the panic problem?”  
  
Ben rubbed his chin. “Much better. I’ve felt on the verge of an attack a few times, but managed to calm myself down before it happened. I’ve actually only had one real attack all month. I’ve been getting shooting lessons every Saturday from a friend, and Chris and I are taking Krav Maga every Wednesday. Plus I’ve just been making new friends—getting involved in the community, y’know. And—and I think all of it is helping a lot. I might not even need a therapist.”  
  
“That’s great news,” said Burdette, with a smile.”But here’s his card, just in case.”  
  
Ben took the proffered card with a thank you.  
  
“And,” added Burdette, “here’s the paperwork for your gun license. Everything’s all cleared away with the police chief. You just have to fill out the papers and turn them in, and then you can go buy your own gun.”  
  
Ben ignored Chris’s scowl as he took the papers. After six training sessions with Ron he felt more than ready to get his own gun, and he’d certainly sleep more easily with a pistol under his mattress.  
  
Lewis then peppered them with questions to make sure their cover was still intact. Ben’s mind flitted back to the disconcerting moment when Leslie had told him he looked familiar. But she hadn’t brought it up since, so he decided not to mention it.  
  
“Okay,” said Lewis. “One last thing—and I don’t want you guys to worry, or anything—but, Ben, your mother reported some odd static on her phone and insisted that someone check it out. The local police found a bug.”  
  
Ben’s heart skipped a beat. “Someone bugged my mom’s phone?”  
  
Lewis nodded. “And once that bug turned up, we had local police check your other relatives, too. Chris, both your parents had bugs in their phones, and Ben, your brother’s phone was bugged, too. Really professional work—none of their houses showed any signs of breaking and entering.”  
  
Ben slumped in his chair, his mind spinning. If it had been that easy for someone to bug his family’s phones, what else could Everson accomplish with nothing more than a snap of his fingers?  
  
“Don’t worry too much,” said Burdette. “The local police has started doing regular drive-bys at all of your relative’s homes, and we’ll have people do monthly sweeps for bugs. But you need to resist any impulses to contact your families. It’s not safe for them, or for you. This should be a warning to you on how determined Everson is to find you. You stay here and keep your heads down. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourselves. Got it?”  
  
Ben nodded numbly.  
  
This proved that no matter how safe and comfortable Pawnee might feel, the outside world still existed, and it wasn’t a pleasant place.   
  
And no matter how appealing immersing himself in Pawnee life might be, Ben had to remember that this wasn’t his world. He didn’t belong here, and he’d be leaving soon—heading back out into the cold, harsh world of deceit, corruption, and violence.  
  
He couldn’t let himself get too attached.  
  
***  
  
Leslie managed to gather her entire team an hour before dawn to get everything set up for the 5K the morning of the first Saturday in August. It looked like a clear, cool morning—perfect for the run/walk.  
  
She took a few deep, satisfied breaths as she saw the final banners hung and the last of the prizes and goody bags arranged. Between the business donors, the contributions from St. Joe’s, and the pre-registered participants they’d already covered all the costs and nearly reached their fundraising goal. Once they got the final tally from race-day registrants and last minute donations, they should meet their goal and then some.   
  
Youth Sports was already saved, and the day had barely begun.   
  
It was freaking awesome.  
  
***  
  
Ben and Andy sat together at the mid-race water station, keeping cups full for the passing runners. Andy kept flexing his newly cast-free hand.  
  
“This is so awesome, dude,” said Andy. “Now I can finally join your ass-kicking class and get ripped, and then April will see that I really am better looking than stupid Eduardo.”  
  
Ben sighed and filled a few more cups as some were snatched from the table by the first wave of runners. “Andy—I’ve seen you going after April for this past month, and she keeps rejecting you again and again. I can’t help but wonder—why don’t you just quit and move on with your life?”  
  
Andy’s jaw dropped, and he looked genuinely dumbfounded. “Quit? Seriously? I am not the kind of man who gives up on his soulmate. No way. Not gonna happen.”  
  
Though Ben was loath to take anything Andy said too seriously, this gave him pause. “You really think she’s your soulmate?”  
  
Andy met his gaze, a deadly serious expression on his face. “I don’t think. I know.”  
  
Ben frankly had trouble picturing the almost aggressively withdrawn April and the exuberant Andy as soulmates. But Andy knew her better than Ben, so…   
  
“How do you know you’re soulmates? I mean, you were with Ann for like, three years, weren’t you? Did you ever think she was your soulmate?” Ben filled a few more paper cups and set them out as more runners streamed by.  
  
Andy shook his head. “I don’t know, man. When you know, you just know. I mean, I loved Ann, but I never felt like this about her. Looking back on it, I think I mostly loved how she took care of me. Like, she’s a really good cook, and living in her house was nice, and she’s pretty fun, and the sex was always good. But there was never that extra special sauce that made the Big Mac into something special-er than just a burger. You know?”  
  
Ben nodded slowly. “I think I get it.” And really, maybe Andy was right. Maybe you could love someone without being soulmates. But that love could be something more profound if you met just the right person. He had trouble not thinking about blonde hair and flashing blue eyes as that thought crossed his mind.  
  
“Okay, Andy. Here’s a question,” said Ben, not completely believing that he was actually turning to Andy Dwyer for relationship advice. “There’s a woman that I’m friends with. And I’m very attracted to her. And I think that she might have that extra special sauce I’m looking for. But I’m afraid of trying to take things beyond friendship because the circumstances aren’t great. I’m in a weird transitional stage of my life where I can’t really settle down anywhere. I’m only in Pawnee until the end of November, and—and who knows where I’ll be after that. So if we _do_ start dating, it would turn into something long-distance, which sucks and doesn’t usually work. And there are some other circumstances in my life that would make it ever harder than a normal long-distance thing. But I really think she might have legitimate soulmate potential. So, even though it would be really hard and the circumstances aren’t great, do you think I should give it a try?”  
  
“Yes. Absolutely,” said Andy without hesitation. “I wasn’t super paying attention to everything you said, but if there’s a lady in your life who might be your soulmate, you can’t let anything like circumcisions or whatever stop you. You need to go for it.”  
  
Ben winced at Andy’s slip of the tongue. “Okay. Huh. Well. Thanks. I’ll definitely take that under consideration.”   
  
As much as he liked the idea of “going for it,” his gut told him that if Andy thought it was a good idea, that probably meant it wasn’t a good idea. But, deep down, he’d known that all along.  
  
***  
  
Chris was utterly delighted that he’d been able to take literally his most favorite job in the 5K—personally thanking each and every one of the participants as they crossed the finish line. He made it his goal to either high five or shake the hand of every person who crossed that line, and he was well on the way to succeeding when a familiar face in considerable distress caught his eye.  
  
Paul jogged across the finish line with a look of excruciating suffering on his face. Sweat drenched his shirt and dripped down his face, and his breath came in swift, labored gasps. Chris’s eyes went wide, and he darted over to support Paul, who looked on the verge of collapse.  
  
“My god,” Chris exclaimed, “are you all right?”  
  
Paul gasped and wheezed, shaking his head. “My wife—” wheeze “—wants me to get—” gasp “—in better shape.” Cough “I guess—” cough “—I wasn’t quite ready—” gasp “—for something like this yet.” Cough.  
  
“I think we need to get you to the first aid tent.” Chris put his arm around Paul’s waist, draped Paul’s arm around his shoulders, and ushered him to the first aid tent as quickly as felt safe.  
  
Ann and Wendy both rushed over as soon as they saw Paul’s condition. Chris helped Paul sit down, and then stepped back to let the lovely ladies do their work.  
  
Paul sipped on the bottle of water they gave him as they did some basic diagnostics.  
  
“When was the last time you got a physical?” asked Wendy.  
  
Paul shook his head. “It’s been years. I avoid doctors as often as possible—no offense.”  
  
Wendy frowned. “Well, you need to see one. Soon. When I first saw you come in here I thought you were having a heart attack. Have you had any chest pain?”  
  
Paul grimaced and nodded. “A little.”  
  
“Just today, or has it been going on for a while?”  
  
Paul avoided meeting her eyes. “It’s just once in a while. I’m pretty sure it’s heartburn.”  
  
Wendy huffed. “It could be angina. I think you are at serious risk for a heart attack. You need to see a doctor Monday. Or sooner, if you can. And I’m not letting you leave this tent until you promise that you will.”  
  
“I agree with Wendy,” said Chris. “You should never take your physical health for granted. It’s something that needs to be tended and nurtured. You should see a doctor as soon as possible.”  
  
“Fine. I’ll go in on Monday.” Paul scowled. “I promise.”  
  
“And I’ll check in on you to make sure you keep that promise,” said Chris. Paul looked perturbed, but he didn’t tell Chris not to check in on him.  
  
After leaving Paul in the capable hands of Ann and Wendy, Chris headed back toward the finish line. On the way there, he ran into Andy.  
  
“Hi, Chris!” called the younger man. “Most of the racer people are done and I was getting bored, so Ben let me leave our station early. Is that okay?”  
  
“Yes, Andy, I’m sure it is.”  
  
“So, hey, Ben was kinda weird this morning. Weirder than usual.” Andy stood scratching his head, and Chris wondered if it was time for another lecture on proper hygiene and grooming.  
  
“Anyway,” continued Andy, “he was, like, talking about some woman that he likes, and how he thinks she might be his soulmate, but he was being all wimpy about it and saying he probably couldn’t date her because of circumspections or something. So, uh, you’re his friend. I thought maybe you could help him with that.”  
  
Chris squeezed his lips together. Ben still hadn’t gotten over his infatuation with Leslie? And now he was talking about her as a potential _soulmate_? They were in Pawnee to relax and lie low—not to fall in love. “That’s very considerate of you, Andy. I’ll try to help him.”  
  
Andy cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “Do you think it might be that Tonya-chick you guys hang out with sometimes?”  
  
Interesting. Given Andy’s tendency to mention whatever was on his mind to anyone near him, this might provide an opportunity for some much needed misdirection. “Now that you mention it, I do think that Ben was interested in her back when we were all working together. And every time we visit with her, he gets moody and distracted afterward. You might just be onto something.”  
  
Andy smiled and chuckled. “See. I can figure things out.”  
  
“Yes, yes you can.” Chris patted Andy on the shoulder. “Actually, maybe you can help another friend out. I’ve been getting the feeling lately that Leslie might have a little bit of a crush on Ben. And if he likes Tonya, I’d hate for Leslie to get hurt by trying to pursue things with him. When you get a chance, could you mention this to her? It’ll probably be better coming from an old friend, like you, then if Ben ends up rejecting her to her face.”  
  
Andy nodded. “Poor Leslie. That sucks for her. Sure. I’ll let her know not to go paddling up that creek next time I get a chance.”  
  
“Good man,” replied Chris, patting Andy on the shoulder again. That should cover the Leslie side of things. Now it was up to him to talk sense into Ben—again.  
  
***  
  
Ben splashed water on his face, trying to ignore Chris’s voice coming through the closed door of his bathroom.  
  
“You know I’m right,” said Chris. “We can’t develop any deep personal attachments here. We’d only put them at risk, and risk blowing our cover at the same time.”  
  
“God. Fine. You’re right. Just—just stop harping. I’m not going to be stupid, okay?” Ben pushed his hair back from his face and sighed.  
  
“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” said Chris from the hall. “I know this is difficult. But our number one job right now is to keep ourselves safe and relaxed so we can testify at the trial and get Everson convicted. That’s all that matters. That’s why we’ve sacrificed so much. And we can’t let ourselves get caught up in anything that might interfere with that.”  
  
Ben knew that. He knew that all too well. He opened the door and slumped against the doorframe. “You don’t have to remind me. I’ve had these thoughts running through my mind for weeks.”  
  
Chris nodded, a sad expression on his face. “I know this is difficult. But it’s for the best. The trial should be done by the end of year. Everson will be convicted, and after that,” Chris shrugged, “who knows? Anything is possible.”  
  
Ben sighed again. Chris was right. If the trial went according to plan, Ben might be able to come back and visit Pawnee sometime next year. This time, as himself. No lies. No hidden agendas.  
  
If he still wanted to come back. And if they still wanted to see him.  
  
Besides, this attraction might just be a psychological coping mechanism—latching onto Leslie as some sort of symbol of hope and optimism. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself.  
  
“Maybe it would be best if I stay home tonight,” he said.  
  
Chris shook his head. “I agree that you should limit your socialization with Leslie in the future. But everyone who helped put the 5K together will be there to celebrate tonight, and you should be there, too.”  
  
Ben reluctantly agreed. He’d go to the celebratory dinner at J.J.’s.  
  
As soon as he stepped into the section of the restaurant that had been reserved for the party he regretted his decision. Looking around he saw Chris and Ann, Ron and Wendy, Tom and Lucy, Jerry and his wife, and April with Eduardo. The only other single person there was Leslie.  
  
***  
  
Leslie laughed at Chris’s tale of a charity run gone haywire and darted her eyes to Ben, who sat across from her. He’d been quiet and withdrawn all through dinner. Not an auspicious start to “Operation Hearts Aflame.” (She was particularly proud of her name for her quest to start dating Ben).  
  
Ann had been convinced that this plan would work—as the only two singles at a big table full of couples, they were bound to end up focusing on each other for most of the evening. And they had ended up seated by each other. But so far nothing else seemed to be working.  
  
Everyone had already finished eating, and Jerry and Gayle had already left. Ron and Tom had been annoying each other all night, and they were on their way out the door, too. That left her with just Chris and Ann, April and Eduardo, and Ben. April and Eduardo were busy chattering away in Spanish and Ben was mostly quiet, so it had been up to her and Chris to keep the conversation going, and Leslie was running out of topics.  
  
Ben cleared his throat. “You know, it’s been a long day. Maybe we should call it a night.”  
  
Leslie felt like whimpering. Had she done something wrong?  
  
“No!” said Ann, shooting a worried look at Leslie. “I’m having so much fun with all of us. It’s like a—a double date. Only with more people. It’s fun!”  
  
Leslie smiled weakly at her friend. Ann was trying her hardest—sweet, beautiful bird of paradise. But tonight seemed like a lost cause.  
  
“Yeah—I’m having a great time,” said April, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let’s get out of here and take this whole double date plus two other people into the stratosphere.”  
  
Unfortunately, Chris seemed to be taking her seriously. “Excellent idea, April! I love it. Where do you think we should go?”  
  
April looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I know the perfect place.”  
  
After a little shuffling in and out of cars (Leslie ended up riding with Chris and Ann, and Ben rode with April and Eduardo), they ended up dancing at the The Bulge.  
  
Normally Leslie loved the music and the friendly, welcoming atmosphere, but though Chris, Ann, April and even Eduardo seemed to be having a great time, Ben continued to look uncomfortable, bobbing awkwardly to the music in a corner. She frowned and bit her lip. She had no idea why he was so off tonight. He’d seemed fine when he showed up to help out that morning. What could have happened?  
  
In any case, if there was any chance of Operation Hearts Aflame progressing she had to find a way to cheer him up.  
  
She sidled over to him and put on her best smile. “Hey—I’m pretty tired after all that work this morning. You look a little beat, too. Want to come sit down and have a drink?”  
  
He looked a little hesitant, but then nodded. “Sure.”   
  
He followed her to the bar and they placed their orders. When Mario handed over her drink and declared it “on the house,” Ben met her eyes and raised an eyebrow.  
  
Perfect—a new conversation topic!  
  
Leslie shrugged and pointed at one of the Knope posters still hanging over the bar. “I’m kind of a gay hero.”  
  
Now both of Ben’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah. I married two gay penguins at the zoo.”  
  
Finally, for what seemed like the first time that night, Ben’s lips curved up into a slight smile. “A penguin wedding? That sounds cute.”  
  
“It was soooo cute,” she gushed. Finally—someone got it. She launched into the whole story, describing the adorable wedding decorations and the bridesmaid dress she’d picked out for April. Ben smiled and nodded the whole time, and even shared his thoughts on how awesome “March of Penguins” was. She had plenty to say about that—it was one of her favorite movies.  
  
Eventually she had to share the sad story of the trumped up controversy. “So, in the end, I had to transfer them to a zoo in a more open-minded city,” she concluded.  
  
“That’s too bad,” said Ben, a wistful look on his face.  
  
“It really was. I’ll always love Pawnee, but I have to confess that there are elements of our community that still haven’t made it to the twenty-first century.” She sighed. “I visited them once, over a long weekend. They seem very happy in their new home. The zoo here wants to get some new penguins, but I’m still worried that there might be some lingering anti-penguin sentiment among the more backwards-minded segments of our city.”  
  
Ben shook his head. “Who could possibly dislike penguins?”  
  
“Stupid people and hatemongers. That’s pretty much it.”  
  
“Well, I hope they get more penguins. Even if they’re not gay. The penguins were always one of my favorite animals at the zoo when I was a kid.” Ben punctuated his sentiment by draining the last gulp of beer from his glass.  
  
“And the Pawnee zoo didn’t have penguins when I was a kid,” replied Leslie. “But I do hope they get some more so that other children don’t have to grow up deprived of that wonderful source of cuteness.”  
  
“I agree.”  
  
God, his smile was adorable. Okay—time to switch Operation Hearts Aflame into high gear.  
  
Leslie took a deep breath. “Hey—I was wondering—” She took another breath. “Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow? Just the two of us?”  
  
Ben’s smile faded, and his eyes took on a startled, glassy look—like a raccoon in the headlights. He moved his jaw a few times, but no words came out.  
  
Leslie held her breath.  
  
“I—uh—well—” Ben coughed. “I don’t think I can.”  
  
Leslie felt like a huge rock had just been dropped onto her stomach.  
  
Ben continued to stammer. “But—uh—you’re great. And—uh—everything you do is great. Like the 5K. It was just—just—great. So you should—um—definitely keep going with all your—stuff. But—uh—as one of your supervisors, it would be inappropriate for us to—er—fraternize. Like that. Yeah.”  
  
She clutched her hands around her drink and looked down at the bar. “Oh. I didn’t think—you know—now that I’m not working under you on the task force anymore—I just thought—”  
  
“Chris and I are technically part of the City Manager’s staff for as long as we’re in Pawnee,” said Ben. “Which, I guess, makes us supervisors over pretty much the whole government except for Paul. And there are government ethics—and—and—all that stuff. So. Yeah.”  
  
Crap on a crayfish. Now it felt like the rock was pummeling her again and again. Why hadn’t this occurred to her? She knew all about government ethics—she took two seminars on the topic when she was in college, for cripes sake. But she hadn’t thought the same rules would apply to contracted consultants like Ben.  
  
It looked like she’d thought wrong.  
  
“I didn’t realize that. I’m sorry. This is awkward.”  
  
“A little. But—look—I—I don’t want things to be too weird between us,” said Ben. “I value your friendship. Things don’t have to be weird—do they?”  
  
Leslie finally looked up to meet his pleading gaze. The pummeling rock slowed down a little. Yes, it hurt. But after what Ben had been through over the past year, he needed friends more than anything. She shouldn’t let her disappointment ruin that for him.  
  
She shook her head. “They won’t be weird. It’s okay.”  
  
His hesitant smile reappeared. “Good. Good. I’m glad.”  
  
“Me too.”  
  
Not how she’d wanted Operation Hearts Aflame to end. Not even close. But she’d make do. She always did.  
  
***  
  
Monday morning, Leslie sat in the courtyard over coffee with Ann and broke the bad news about Ben. She hadn’t shared it on Sunday because she hadn’t wanted to ruin Ann’s spa getaway day with Chris.  
  
Ann looked crestfallen. “That sucks so bad! I am so sorry. If I’d had any idea about that stupid government ethics rule, I never would have dragged you guys to the bar.”  
  
Leslie shook her head. “It’s not your fault. I would have found this out eventually, one way or another. Better to know now, so I don’t keep waiting for something that can’t happen.”  
  
Ann frowned and shook her head. “It doesn’t seem fair.”  
  
“I know it. But the rules are the rules. And Ben really needs friends right now, so I’m just going to try to push my feelings about his cute face and incredible hair aside, and treat him like I would any other friend.” Which would _not_ be easy. She didn’t want to jump any of her other friends. And she really needed to stop thinking things like that.  
  
Just then Andy came bounding in. “Hey Leslie! Ann. Did you see I’m back in action?” He punched the air repeatedly with his healed hand.  
  
Ann rolled her eyes. “Yes. You showed us yesterday. Several times.”  
  
Andy grinned and sat down. “Oh yeah.”  
  
“So, what’s up, Andy?” asked Leslie.  
  
He leaned toward her, a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes. “Well, remember how you wanted me to find out more about that Tonya chick?”  
  
“Oh.” She’d forgotten all about that—and she was rather surprise that Andy _hadn’t_. “You don’t—”  
  
“Ben thinks she’s his soulmate, but he’s scared to ask her out because of long-distance and circumlocution,” said Andy triumphantly.  
  
Leslie’s jaw dropped, and the rock that had been pummeling her all yesterday suddenly turned into a boulder.  
  
“No way,” said Ann, glaring at Andy. “Did Ben say this?”  
  
Andy shook his head. “Ben didn’t tell me who it was, but he went on and on about this soulmate woman and how he was too much of a wuss to ask her out. But I figured it out. And Chris agrees with me.”  
  
Now Leslie felt like taking an actual real rock and pummeling _Ben_ with it. He’d outright _lied_ to her. He’d led her on all month. And then he hadn’t had the guts to tell her he wasn’t interested in dating her—instead, he’d lied and passed it off on some stupid government ethics.  
  
Ann peppered Andy with more questions and kept getting the same answers. Leslie tuned them out. All she could think about was that the sweet, funny, vulnerable Ben had just been an act. Her first impression of him had been right all along—he really was a condescending jerk.  
  
For the next few weeks, Leslie did her best to avoid Ben. For the first few days he tried to chat in the halls like everything was normal. But everything was most certainly _not_ normal. _Things don’t have to be weird_. Yeah right! After a few days he picked up on her signals and started leaving her alone.  
  
But as much as she wanted it to, the ache in her chest wouldn’t go away.  
  
She’d gotten used to his company and his friendship, and she’d gotten used to including him as a part of her life. And no matter how many times she reminded herself that he’d just been a jerk in sheep’s clothing, she still missed him.  
  
Two weeks later all the government employees who’d been on leave were called back to work, and Leslie couldn’t have been more relieved. Once her department was back up and running, she’d have plenty of things to distract her from the way Ben had hurt her.  
  
Except, naturally, on the first day back to normal work, right when she was in the middle of giving everyone a welcome back pep-talk, Ben just had to walk in and pass out the all-too-thin packet outlining the new duties of the Parks Department: park and facility maintenance and youth sports. That was it.  
  
And it sucked.  
  
All the anger and frustration that had been festering inside of her for the past two weeks felt like it was about to explode. As she strode angrily down the corridors of city hall, her eyes fixed on something, and she stopped cold.  
  
This was it. This was what she needed. This was how she could save the rest of her department’s programs and prove to Ben that she didn’t need stupid jerk liars to help her.  
  
***  
  
Getting the cold shoulder from Leslie sucked.  
  
It sucked worse than anything else Ben had experienced since coming to Pawnee (including his panic attacks—which he’d had two of since the awkward night at the gay bar).  
  
He’d thought they’d ended the “turning her down” conversation on a positive note, so her sudden coldness had shocked him. He thought she was a bigger person than that. And a few of her muttered asides had made him suspect that more was going on than just his rejection of her. But she didn’t seem like she’d be ready to open up and explain it to him anytime soon, so he didn’t push.  
  
He tried to convince himself that in the long run, it was for the best. He’d been getting way too attached. Like Chris had said over and over again—the trial was all that really mattered. He just had to keep his head down and tread water until the time came.  
  
But after what he’d experienced during his first two months in Pawnee, it was pretty hard to believe that this new isolation was for the best.  
  
Since coming here he’d been befriended—embraced, even—included, respected, reenergized, and, above all else, inspired.  
  
Being suddenly cut off from all that left him feeling more adrift and alone than he had since the several weeks in guarded hotel rooms that had led up to that ill-fated pre-trial hearing.  
  
He hated feeling this way. And he didn’t know what to do.  
  
Then, on the afternoon of the first day of the return of regular government operations, he found himself shepherded, along with Chris and Paul, into an impromptu meeting in the Parks Department.  
  
He sat back and watched in awe as Leslie delivered an impassioned speech about the need to serve her community, accompanied by visual aids and the freaking soundtrack to _Chariots of Fire_ , with all of her team lined up in solidarity behind her, united in her vision of saving their department’s services or going down trying.  
  
This was the inspiration and optimism that he’d been missing in the weeks since the 5K, and when it ended, he felt like rising to his feet and applauding. But, since Leslie still hated him and he wasn’t sure how well that gesture would go over, he remained quietly seated, his heart in his throat, wondering why this amazing woman had turned against him so abruptly. And if he’d ever have another shot at meeting someone like her again, or if he’d blown his only chance.  
  
He sat back in silent admiration as Chris openly wept over the speech, and Paul grudgingly approved Leslie’s proposal to bring back the traditional Pawnee Harvest Festival.  
  
“Ben,” said Paul suddenly.  
  
Coming out of his Leslie-induced-trance, Ben blinked and looked up at Paul.  
  
Paul pointed at him. “I want you working with Ron and Leslie on this project. You can coordinate the budget and oversee all the financial details, and supervise the organizational details, too.”  
  
“But—maybe Chris…” started Ben, just as Chris said, “Perhaps I might be better suited—”  
  
“No.” Paul shook his head. “Chris—I have a feeling you’re already too emotionally invested in this project. I want someone who can do the job with objectivity. This one’s all yours, Ben.”  
  
Ben’s eyes darted over to Leslie scowling at him. Great. Just great.  
  
After Paul and Chris left, Ben ambled over to Leslie. “Can I have a word with you for just a minute?”  
  
She glared at him, her lips tight, but nodded and led the way to her office.  
  
Now that the first inspirational glow of the speech had worn off, Ben felt genuinely worried. She’d staked her own job on the outcome of the festival—if it failed, she’d be let go.  
  
She might have what it took to make the festival succeed. He really hoped she did. But she was so valuable to Pawnee that he hated to see her take that risk.  
  
“Look,” he said, “I know things have been—tense—between us for the past couple of weeks. But—I just want you to know that I really want you to succeed. And I’m going to do my best to help you. I hope we can get past whatever issue is causing problems, and work as a team on this.”  
  
Leslie clenched her jaw and flared her nostrils, but finally nodded. “Fine. We can work together. You’re a competent financial manager. You probably won’t screw things up. But I’m taking lead on this. Got it?”  
  
Ben knit his brows. Apparently getting back in her good graces wasn’t going to be easy. “Yeah. I get it.”  
  
He turned to leave, but then stopped himself. He had to find a way to impart to her the full gravity of her situation, and just how important working together as a unified team would be. “This festival idea reminds me of something I was a part of back when I was in high school,” he said. Telling her this was probably a bad idea, but he just couldn’t stop himself. “A—a friend of mine decided to run for mayor of our hometown when he was just 18. And I worked on his campaign. I was his right-hand man. And, somehow, he managed to win. We were full of optimism and ideas and enthusiasm. But none of us had much experience. So when he got it into his head that he could build a winter sports complex—he called it Ice Town—to bring in more tourist business and to help the youth of the community, we thought that since we’d won an election together, we could do that job together, too. And we ignored the advice of more experienced, more expert people, and tried to do it ourselves.”  
  
“And it was amazing and everyone loved it,” said Leslie, filling in his pause.  
  
“No. It was a disaster and bankrupted the town, and my friend got impeached. I just—I don’t want this festival to turn into _your_ Ice Town.” He bit his lip and held his breath, hoping that something here would actually sink in.  
  
Leslie took a deep breath. “Well, you guys didn’t have _me_ helping you when you did Ice Town.”  
  
Ben sighed. So much for that. “No. No, we didn’t.”  
  
Then, unexpectedly, Leslie’s expression softened. “And you didn’t have the training and experience that you have now. If you had, I’m sure your friend would have succeeded.”  
  
Ben let himself wear a hint of a smile. Maybe she got what he was saying, after all. “Yeah. Maybe he would have.”  
  
She nodded resolutely. “And together, we _will_ make this work. Don’t doubt it.”  
  
His smile grew. “I don’t.”  
  
***  
  
Leslie sat on her garage floor, staring in confusion down at the stack of newspaper and magazine clippings about the rise and fall of teen-mayor Benji Adams.  
  
As soon as Ben had mentioned Ice Town, something in her mind had clicked, and she’d realized why he’d seemed so familiar when he first came to town. She’d followed Benji Adams’s political career closely, because he was only one year younger than her. She’d been inspired by him—and had a crush on him—and then felt terribly disappointed in him.  
  
Now, staring down at his photo in People magazine, she had no doubt whatsoever in her mind that Benji Adams, teen-mayor, and Ben Wyatt, budget consultant, were one and the same.  
  
He’d lied about his real name—and his real history. And he’d lied about Tonya, and about the ethics of intergovernmental dating. What else had he lied about?  
  
Could she trust Ben at all?  
  
 _tbc_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally published on LiveJournal in April 2012

Chris hadn’t been this happy in months. His relationship with the lovely Ann Perkins was everything he’d hoped for and more—it was exactly what he needed to finally get over Kelsey (who he really shouldn’t be thinking about anymore). In the meantime, he wanted everyone around him to feel the same kind of happiness he felt right now. For Ben that might prove impossible—he’d never met someone as determined to be unhappy as Ben.  
  
Andy, on the other hand, was eager for happiness. And he seemed so close.  
  
Clearly April’s involvement with Eduardo was nothing but a ploy to hurt Andy, born of her own pain at Andy’s betrayal. But, in Chris’s opinion, Andy’s offense had been insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and he felt certain that with a little more effort on Andy’s part, April would soon be his once again. After nearly a month of persistent wooing, Andy was once again on speaking terms with April. Even better, now that he’d joined the Krav Maga class, Andy had begun to glow with health and vitality. Chris felt certain that with a little extra push, Andy would soon be back in April’s heart.  
  
Just after the workday ended he sat Andy down in his office and pulled out a dry erase marker. “All right, friend. What we need to do now is focus on all the qualities that make you special, and that attracted April in the first place. So, let’s make a list. What are you best qualities?”  
  
Andy looked thoughtful for a moment, and then perked up. “I’m nice.”  
  
“Wonderful start!” Chris turned and wrote “Nice” on the white board. Andy certainly was nice. Like an energetic puppy. “Now, what else?”  
  
“I’m in a band!” Andy pointed at Chris, grinning.  
  
“Band.” Chris added the word to the list. That was probably what had attracted Ann to Andy several years ago. Chris had noticed that sensible women often lost their wits around men who were musically gifted. He’d tried taking up the guitar years ago, but didn’t have a good ear for it. However, he had plenty of other attractive qualities and talents to make up for his lack of musicality.  
  
“What’s next?” Chris asked.  
  
Andy, still smiling, shook his head. “That’s it.”  
  
Oh boy. Chris already knew that helping Andy would be an uphill climb—but it was only now sinking in just how steep that climb would be. “Well,” he said, “everyone has to start somewhere. _Nice_ and _band_ are as good a place as any.”  
  
“Sweet.” Andy slapped his hands together, looking positively elated.  
  
Huh. He might not be happy for the long-term. But for tonight, at least, Chris’s pep talk seemed to have done the trick. Chris could literally not be any more delighted. At least, not until his next date with Ann.  
  
***  
  
“Okay, so, Ben, you can deliver the invitations to the Chamber of Commerce meeting to all the businesses who contributed to the 5K, since they already know you,” said Leslie, passing a list across the table. “And I’ll deliver the invitations to all the businesses who didn’t contribute to the 5K, because I know everyone in town.”  
  
Ben sighed and took his list. For the past few days things with Leslie had been . . . interesting. She wasn’t avoiding him or giving him the cold shoulder anymore, so he supposed this must be an improvement of sorts. But being saddled with menial task after menial task and being shut out of the more critical budgeting tasks while Leslie treated him like a barely-competent acquaintance wasn’t exactly ideal. He knew Leslie was working long overtime hours to prep the budget projections and secure contracts with a carnival company, but every time he offered to take some of it off of her hands she came up with excuses to keep doing it all herself. One thing was clear—she didn’t trust him with this project.  
  
By now Ben felt certain that Leslie’s attitude toward him had nothing to do with his rejection of her romantic overtures—or at least very little to do with it. He knew enough about her by now to know that she was a bigger person than that. Unfortunately, she wasn’t bold enough to come right out and tell him what the problem was. He wasn’t much better—he was afraid that if he confronted her he’d only make things worse.  
  
There were a few bright spots in his otherwise lonely August. He still went target shooting once a week with Ron, and they’d gone to the gun shop together to pick out pistol for him. Andy had joined the Krav Maga class, and Ben had discovered that he actually preferred Andy as a sparring partner over Chris. Ben felt like he learned more and gained more strength and confidence taking on a larger partner—plus, Andy didn’t hold back out of fear of hurting someone, but Chris always did. Ben would rather wake up in the morning with a few sore bruises if it meant being better able to defend himself. Lastly, Chris spent three or four nights a week at Ann’s house, lately, and Ben enjoyed having the condo to himself. He could eat junk food and watch all the science fiction and fantasy movies and TV shows he wanted because there was no one around to complain about it.  
  
After ending the meeting with Leslie and wrapping up his other business for the day, Ben picked up a sandwich at Ray’s and headed home with every intention of marathoning four or five episodes of Futurama. Instead, he found Andy and Eduardo in his living room playing Dave Matthews tunes on their guitars.  
  
Ben raised his eyebrows. “Uh, hi?”  
  
Andy grinned (his default expression). “Hey dude! We’re having a mega-super jam session. Wanna join in? I brought a bass.”  
  
“I don’t play bass. Which you would know if you’d actually listened to my answer the twenty times you’ve asked me.” Ben narrowed his eyes and looked around the room. Throw pillows lay on the floor, open bags of chips sat on the counter back in the kitchen, and two beers sat on the coffee table—with no coasters. “Chris isn’t here, is he?”  
  
“Nope. He’s out with Ann. And he said he probably wouldn’t be back until after his morning run.” Andy giggled. “I’ve never heard it called that before, but whatever.”  
  
Ben was pretty sure Chris had meant “morning run” literally, but he didn’t feel like explaining that to Andy. Not when there were bigger questions to be answered. “So, if Chris isn’t here, why are you?”  
  
“Burley’s cooking some sort of special dinner for his girlfriend and he told me I had to clear out until after ten tomorrow, so Chris said I could crash here on your couch, and then I found out that Eduardo here is a huge Dave Matthews fan and is pretty good with a guitar, so we decided to jam. You don’t mind, do you?”  
  
“No. Why would I mind having you and April’s Venezuelan boyfriend jamming in my living room all night instead of letting me have a relaxing evening alone?” Ben said pointedly.  
  
“Sweet!” Andy strummed a chord on his guitar. “You and Chris are the awesomest dudes ever.”  
  
Clearly sarcasm didn’t work on Andy. Ben wondered, again, how he and April were ever a thing.  
  
Ben went to his room to play games on his iPad instead, but got frustrated with the unceasing barrage of adequately performed Dave Matthews and decided to go for a walk. He made his way to Wamapokestone Park, a few blocks from his condo, and sat on a bench not far from the burbling fountain. He remembered coming here a month ago with Leslie as they scouted out potential routes for the 5K. She’d told him the history of the park, and a story about the fountain. Supposedly if you held your true love’s hand and threw a penny into the fountain, you’d be together forever. She’d made the whole thing sound so romantic—it had almost been enough to inspire Ben to take a chance. Things had been going so well, back then. He’d had friends and an interesting job and a fun, positive project to work on—and Leslie.  
  
Now, he still had all those things. Except Leslie. And somehow that one loss made a world of difference.  
  
He’d only briefly considered her as a serious romantic prospect. Under the circumstances that kind of relationship simply wouldn’t work. But her friendship had touched him in a way that nothing else had in a very long time. He wanted to be angry at her for shutting him out, but every time he talked to her, or looked at her, or even heard about something cool she’d just done (which was often), all he wanted was to find a way to apologize for whatever it was that he’d done to offend her and make things right.  
  
Really, anger or apology were his only two options. And he’d been angry about one thing or another in his life for far too long.  
  
He made his way back to the condo and found Andy and Eduardo taking a snack break. He went ahead and joined them for some chips and candy. When Eduardo stepped away to use the bathroom, Ben asked, “So, are you still trying to win over April?”  
  
“Yep. I sure am,” replied Andy, tossing a Skittle into his mouth.  
  
“Then why are you hanging out with her boyfriend?”  
  
Andy shrugged. “I’m just trying to be as super nice as I can, and hoping for the best. At this point, what else can I do?”  
  
“Huh.” Ben munched on a chip, pondering. _Try to be as super nice as I can. What else can I do?_ Andy might be a little simple, but sometimes there could be wisdom in simplicity.  
  
***  
  
On the Monday before the big Chamber of Commerce meeting, Leslie heard a knock at her door and looked up from her computer in surprise to see Ben standing in her entryway. They didn’t have any meetings scheduled that day, and he hadn’t dropped by socially in a few weeks (thank goodness). So why was he here, now?  
  
“Hey,” he said, smiling brightly. “I was delivering some of those meeting invitations this weekend, and when I was at Matt’s Marvelous Magic Shop, I saw this and thought of you.” He held out a long, narrow wrapped package.  
  
Leslie’s jaw dropped. He got her a present? After weeks of treating him like a pariah? What?  
  
She took the present warily. “I don’t—I’m not sure I should—”  
  
“Just open the present, Leslie.” His expression hovered somewhere between frustration and pleading.  
  
With tight lips she peeled back the corners of the vividly striped paper, and ripped it away from the box.  
  
It was a collectible replica of Harry Potter’s wand.  
  
Her heart did a little flip as she looked back up at Ben’s hopeful expression. “Matt says he doesn’t like carrying the Harry Potter products, because it’s not real magic—whatever that means—but he feels like he has to because the stuff sells like hotcakes. Anyway, I saw it, and I thought of you. I mean, you like Harry Potter, right?”  
  
“Yes. I do.” Her heart did another little flip, and she had to remind herself that she still didn’t trust Ben.  
  
He shrugged. “I just thought this could be a good luck charm, for the meeting this week. It can help you triumph in the Chamber of Commerce just like Harry’s wand helped him triumph in the Chamber of Secrets.”  
  
“It was actually the Sword of Gryffindor that helped him triumph in the Chamber of Secrets,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them.  
  
Ben grimaced. “It’s just—it’s just a gesture. Okay? Just take the wand. Enjoy. Whatever.”  
  
He looked genuinely hurt. Maybe she had been carrying this shunning thing a little too far. It had occurred to her several times over the past week that he might have had a very good reason to change his name. Still, he should have owned the story of his failure with Ice Town instead of pretending that it happened to a friend. And he should have told her that he wasn’t interested in dating her straight out, instead of making flimsy excuses. That would have been the mature, adult thing to do.  
  
Just like making amends with him now would be the mature, adult thing to do.  
  
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s very nice. I appreciate the thought.” It would actually look really great hung up beside the replica of Hermione’s wand that she already had on display in her home office.  
  
“You’re welcome,” he said, the tension in his frame easing a little. “And if you need any more help on anything to get ready for your presentation to the Chamber on Friday, just let me know. I’d be glad to pitch in.”  
  
Leslie nodded. She nibbled on her bottom lip and sucked in a breath as Ben turned to leave. Maybe she couldn’t trust Ben about his personal life, but he’d never been anything but professional and helpful at work. It was probably time to bite the bullet and let him do his job.  
  
“Ben,” she said. He immediately turned back, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve actually been having a little trouble working out all the details on these budget projections. Maybe we could have a meeting about it later?”  
  
He nodded. “Yeah. I think I have an opening at two. Would that work for you?”  
  
“Sure.”   
  
“Okay. See you then.” He shot her that little, hopeful smile she used to like so much as he walked away.  
  
The meeting went well, and Ben managed to answer most of the questions she’d been having. He also managed to remind her why she’d liked him so much in the first place, before she discovered that he was a liar. She’d have to remember that liar thing on Wednesday during the follow-up meeting they’d scheduled, or she’d be very much in danger of liking him again in spite of everything.  
  
On Tuesday Leslie noticed a lot of city employees had called in sick, but she wasn’t worried. She never got sick. It wouldn’t be a problem.  
  
***  
  
Chris was doing chin-ups in his office when Andy bounded in with a bigger-than-usual grin on his face. There must be some good news, and Chris couldn’t wait to hear it.  
  
He dropped to the ground and clapped his hands together. “Andy! I’m so happy to see you.”  
  
“And I’m happy to see you, too. Because you, sir, are a genius.”  
  
Chris wasn’t sure he’d use the term “genius,” but sensei might be appropriate for the situation. “I take it you have positive news for me?”  
  
Andy bounced up and down on his heels. “Yes! _Band_ and _nice_ totally worked. I was getting to be friends with Eduardo, and April didn’t like it so she totally dumped him, and he’s headed back to Venezuela. Which is, you know, too bad for him, ‘cause he’s actually a cool guy. But it totally rocks for me.”  
  
“That is fantastic news,” said Chris, raising his hand to high five Andy. “I hope that you and April will soon rekindle your romantic fire.”  
  
Andy chuckled. “Yeah. And, hey, how are things going with you and Ann? It seems like you two are getting pretty serious.”  
  
Chris raised his eyebrows in surprise. He wouldn’t have expected Andy to notice anything about his relationship with Ann. “I don’t think I’d call it serious. We enjoy each other’s company, and I expect to continue to spend a fair amount of time together. We have fun.” Chris shrugged and shook his head. “That’s all there is to it.”  
  
“Really?” Andy wore a skeptical expression. “Because Ann’s doing that thing she does when she gets serious with someone.”  
  
Chris narrowed his eyes. “What thing?” He hadn’t sensed any degree of seriousness in Ann’s behavior, but Andy was in a better position to know.  
  
“You know—that—that thing. She’s always dropping by to give you stuff and check in on you and hang out with you. That thing.”  
  
Chris relaxed. “That’s just an example of her naturally considerate nature, Andy. It has nothing whatsoever to do with the level of seriousness in our relationship.”  
  
“Okay. Whatever you say. You’re the smart one.” Andy still looked unconvinced. “Well, uh, I’ll see you around.”  
  
After Andy left Chris returned to his chin-ups. He enjoyed his relationship with Ann very much, but he didn’t want her to get the idea that they were headed in a serious direction. He felt fairly certain that Ann was on the same page as him, but Andy had raised new doubts. Perhaps it would be best to have a frank conversation with Ann, just to make sure.  
  
And with that his mind drifted back to mentally scheduling his new herbal supplement routine to maximize the benefits to his exercise schedule.  
  
***  
  
By mid-morning on Friday, the day of the crucial Chamber of Commerce meeting, it was unmistakably clear to Ben that Leslie had succumbed to the flu that seemed to have struck a third of the town. When he managed to get her to the hospital, Ann agreed. Leslie was feverish and dehydrated and needed to be admitted immediately.  
  
Leslie didn’t take the news well. No matter how hard Ben tried to convince her that he could put on the presentation without her, she seemed convinced that he would somehow screw it up. She called at least once every hour all afternoon with tips, suggestions, or demands. She even offered to write him an introductory show tune. Ben’s ire mounted with every call.  
  
He’d been there for her all week. He’d answered every question and solved every budget dilemma. The tension between them had been easing, and he’d been almost certain that things were on the mend. Unfortunately, all of Leslie’s micromanaging proved him wrong. She’d needed his budget expertise—that was all. But when push came to shove, she still didn’t trust him.  
  
He gritted his teeth and reviewed his presentation one more time. Other than the necessary deception to maintain his cover identity, he hadn’t lied to her once. In fact, he’d given away more of his past than he probably should have. He’d shared more of himself with her during the first two months they’d known each other than he had with any other new friend that he’d made over the past ten years. It usually took him half a year or more to feel so free when talking to someone, and more often than not he never got there at all. He wasn’t the type to have lots of close friends—just a few at a time. And he’d thought Leslie was one of them. So what had he done to deserve this loss of faith? She still wouldn’t open up to him.  
  
He was starting to wonder if this was all a lost cause. Maybe he should start treating this like nothing more than a temporary job—a way to pass the time until the really important stuff happened. Like Chris.  
  
That thought still hung in the back of his mind when he arrived at the hotel meeting room to make sure all the set-up was done. About fifteen minutes later he heard an all-too-familiar voice call out, “Ben Wyatt!”  
  
He turned to see a rather disheveled looking Leslie walking toward him with a manic smile on her face, asking if she could borrow some money for her cab fare—which she couldn’t read because, according to her, the meter had displayed Egyptian hieroglyphics.   
  
Crap.  
  
Ben led her to a quiet corner to sit down. The heat of her fever practically radiated off her body, and she was clearly delirious. What the hell was she doing here? Why hadn’t Ann stopped her?  
  
He quickly dashed out to pay the cab, and returned thankfully to find Leslie still sitting where he’d left her. “Leslie, you really shouldn’t be here. I’ve got this presentation under control. I’ve led meetings like this dozens of times. You need to be in bed.”  
  
“No. No. No bed. I’m fine.” Her eyes kept going in and out of focus—just one sign of how _not_ fine she was. “Everyone is counting on me. I need to do this.”  
  
Ben’s frustration finally spilled out. “You know, I find it a little insulting that you don’t trust me to handle this.”  
  
She glared up at him. “Well, I’m sorry if I don’t trust liars, Benji Adams.” She drew out the sounds of his name in a sing-song tone.  
  
Ben froze. _Holy shit_.  
  
He crouched down beside her and hissed, “Don’t ever say that name in public again. Please.”  
  
Leslie rolled her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. “Fine. Whatever.”  
  
Ben grabbed her hand and squeezed a little, trying to jog her back into focus. “Where you did you hear that name?” If his cover was blown, this might be his last day in Pawnee. He had to know.  
  
“Scrapbook. In my garage. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Mayor, I’ve got a speech to deliver.” She rose to her feet and spun to face the poster on the wall behind her, and announced herself as Leslie Monster of Nightline.  
  
Ben fought to control the panic rising in his chest. If what she’d said about the scrapbook was true, and not just more of her delirious ramblings, then it had only been his foolish slip in talking about Ice Town and teen mayors that had led to this. He had no doubt that Leslie would have been the type of girl to save clippings about a teenage mayor in her scrapbook. As long as she hadn’t Googled him, his cover might still be safe. But not if she announced his name from the podium.  
  
“Leslie,” he hissed, “you can’t give this presentation. You’re delirious.”  
  
“You’re delirious!” she snapped back at him. “I’m giving this presentation. The fate of the whole world depends on it.”  
  
Ben rubbed his face with his hands, feeling more desperate by the minute. “Look—you are _not_ giving this presentation. I’ll carry you out of this hotel myself if I have to.”  
  
Leslie’s scowl intensified. “You wouldn’t dare. And I’ll have you know that I’ve got my rape whistle in my purse, and I’m not afraid to use it.” With one last icy glare in his direction, she whirled on her heels and jogged down the center isle toward the front podium.  
  
“God damn it,” Ben cursed under his breath, and speed-walked after her.  
  
Leslie arrived at the front of the room just in time to talk to Tom, who’d walked in with a few old guys. Though Ben had been frustrated with Tom earlier for not helping out, all that was forgotten in the face of the looming disaster of Leslie’s presentation.  
  
“Tom—Tom,” said Leslie, darting behind the man and gripping his shoulders.  
  
“Hey! Don’t get my suit dirty,” said Tom.  
  
Leslie pointed at Ben as he approached. “Tom, you have to stop him. Don’t let him kidnap me before I can save the president.”  
  
Ben’s shoulders slumped. “I’m not kidnapping her, Tom.”  
  
Tom nodded. “That’s a good call. She’s a fighter—you’d regret it almost immediately.”  
  
“Look,” said Ben, “we can’t let her give this presentation. She’s delirious with the flu. She has no idea what he’s saying.”  
  
“Don’t listen to him, Tom,” said Leslie from behind Tom, peering over his shoulder. “He just wants to infiltrate the staff and hand Hogwarts over to the Death Eaters.”  
  
Tom’s mouth hung open for a moment, and then shook his head. “Yeah. She’s delirious.”  
  
Ben took in a deep breath in relief, until Tom spoke again, “But I’m not gonna stop her.”  
  
“What?” Ben could hardly believe his ears.  
  
“Sorry.” Tom shrugged. “She’s my boss, and I have to share an office with her. If I stop her now she’ll be mad at me forever, and make my life a living hell. No—this girl is going on. So you’d better help her pull herself together.”  
  
“Hah!” Leslie grinned. “I win.” She turned and wobbled her way up to the chairs beside the podium. “Come on, Tom. Introduce me, before Ben tries to sabotage me again.”  
  
Ben hurried up to the stage and sat down beside Leslie as the attendees filled in the seats. There had to be over a hundred business owners there; far too many to risk Leslie trumpeting his real name to them. But he’d have to tread carefully—if he applied too much force, she’d probably react badly.  
  
As Leslie straightened her blazer and pointedly ignored him, Ben made a quick mental inventory of his options. Reason with her? Not likely to succeed. Trick her into leaving? Not enough time. Pull the fire alarm? Might work . . . But there was one more thing he could try first.  
  
Ben rested a hand on Leslie’s shoulder, leaned toward her, and spoke in a low, fervent tone. “Leslie—I don’t know what I did to make you angry at me, or—or to make you lose faith in me, but whatever it was, I’m sorry. Very, very sorry. And I want to do whatever I can to make it up to you, but we don’t have time for that right now. I promise that I’ll do whatever it takes as soon as we’re done here. But first, I have a huge favor that I need to ask you.”  
  
Leslie turned her head to meet his gaze with something akin to comprehension in her eyes. At least she was _trying_ to pay attention through her delirious haze. She nodded.  
  
Ben took a deep breath. “Please—please—never mention the name Ben Adams again. To anyone. Not even Ann. And especially don’t say it to anyone here tonight. Please. It’s very important to me.”  
  
Leslie pursed her lips, her forehead scrunched.   
  
Ben held his breath. If this didn’t work it would take him about fifteen seconds to run across the room to the nearest fire alarm. But everyone would see him pull it, so that might backfire. Maybe he’d have to run for the one in the hall and hope Leslie didn’t make it to the podium first—  
  
Leslie nodded. “Okay.”  
  
Ben’s eyes went wide. “Okay?”  
  
“Okay,” she repeated. She almost seemed to understand.  
  
Ben let his hand fall from her shoulder, and waited, his heart in his throat, as Tom went to the podium to introduce her.  
  
She wobbled slightly on her feet as she rose and walked to the podium.   
  
He could still make that mad dash for the fire alarm if he had to. God, he hoped he didn’t have to.  
  
Leslie flipped open her padfolio, and lifted her eyes to the audience. And then something magical happened.  
  
***  
  
Leslie rubbed her eyes and blinked at the sunlight hitting her face. She never slept in past dawn. What was going on? Was this even her bed?  
  
She sat up with a start and looked around at the sterile, impersonal room. Hospital. She was still in the hospital. But what about the Chamber of Commerce meeting?  
  
That’s when it all came flooding back—how she’d stolen her friends’ medicine, sneaked out of the hospital, made it to the hotel, fought with Ben, and gave the presentation. After that it dissolved into a blur.  
  
Oh god. She’d given the presentation, and she couldn’t even remember it. She didn’t know if she’d screwed up or succeeded. She didn’t even know whether or not the Harvest Festival was still happening.  
  
She scrambled for her phone on the bedside table to check her messages.   
  
There was a voicemail from Tom: “Hey, I don’t know if you’ll remember anything that happened tonight, so I thought I’d let you know that you knocked it out of the park. I had business peeps tripping over each other trying to sign up for this party while I was escorting you out. Bottom line—the Harvest Fest is on fire, girl. See ya Monday.”  
  
Leslie sighed in relief and sank back against her pillows. Thank god.  
  
She let herself relax for two or three minutes before starting to think about all the to-do lists that she’d have to start tackling on Monday. Tom and Donna could help with a lot of it, and Ron and Jerry could probably keep the normal Parks functions going in the meantime while she refocused her efforts. And of course beautiful amazing nurse and friend Ann would volunteer some time and moral support. And Ben would help—  
  
That thought brought her up cold.  
  
Ben. They’d fought. Not just a Cold War style standoff. They’d fought for real.  
  
She didn’t remember all the details, but she was pretty sure she’d thrown some harsh accusations his way and called him a liar to his face.  
  
After all he’d done to help her all week, and the gift, and offering to do the presentation himself and working hard on it all day, she’d turned around and stomped all over him.  
  
So, yes, he did lie about his personal life and history. Which was a jerk move. But he was still a valuable colleague, and one should never treat a valuable colleague like crap.  
  
Even worse, she’d begun to think that maybe his lies weren’t as bad as she’d originally believed, and that she’d been overreacting for weeks and really owed him an apology.  
  
 _Apology_.  
  
Crap. Ben had apologized to her, hadn’t he? The image of his rather desperate-looking face rose to the surface of her mind. He’d apologized, and pleaded with her not to tell anyone about his teen-mayor past, and had looked every bit as nakedly honest as he had that day in J.J.’s when he’d confessed about the shooting. She must have re-opened a deep wound with that one.  
  
That brought on a fresh wave of guilt.  
  
Why did he have to be so darn confusing? He wouldn’t let her hate him when she wanted to hate him, yet she could never completely like him, either, because he kept pretending to be open and straightforward when he was really hiding all kinds of secrets and how could she ever really like someone who couldn’t be honest about who he really was?  
  
She had so much to worry about with the Harvest Festival, she really didn’t have time to spend lots of mental energy trying to figure out an enigma of a man (no matter how attractive that enigma might be).  
  
To take her mind off of weird-enigma Ben, she called for a nurse and ordered some breakfast. But hospital breakfast turned out to be depressing and disgusting. (Why hadn’t Ann warned her about this?)  
  
Just when she’d begun to consider sneaking out against her doctor’s advice (again) to get some decent food, there came a knock at her door.  
  
Leslie gulped when she looked up to see Ben standing in the doorway, clutching some takeout containers.  
  
Fortunately he looked just as nervous as she felt, which helped calm her stomach—and were those J.J.’s boxes?  
  
“Hey,” she said, plastering on a smile to hide her nerves.  
  
“Hey there,” he replied, coming in and slowly closing the door behind him. “I brought you some waffles.”  
  
He walked forward and set the box on her meal tray, along with a container of extra whipped cream. Of course he had to go and be extra considerate right when she was on the verge of resolving to not think about him anymore.  
  
“Thank you,” she said. God, the waffles smelled amazing.  
  
“You’re welcome.” He shuffled back a few steps and looked at his feet. “Well—I’ll start with the good news. You said you needed eighty total businesses to participate.”  
  
She raised her eyebrows, her heart speeding up. “Yeah?”  
  
A faint hint of a smile danced at the corners of his mouth. “Well, we have one hundred and ten, and counting.”  
  
Her whole body relaxed, releasing the pent-up tension of her morning worry-fest. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling.  
  
“You were amazing last night,” Ben said, his smile growing a little. “When you came in I was really worried. But—uh—you pulled it off with flying colors. So—great work.” He nodded.   
  
“Thank you. And thanks for all your help.” She took a breath, and steeled herself. “I know you put in a lot of work yesterday—and all week, really—and I don’t completely remember everything from last night, but I’m pretty sure I treated you like crap. And I’m sorry.”  
  
He heaved a breath, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah. Well. Thanks. And—uh—maybe we should talk about whatever’s been going on between us lately. I want to make things right. But, uh, it can wait until you’re feeling better. You need your rest.”  
  
Leslie shook her head. They had momentum now. No sense in wasting it. “I’ve already slept, like, three times as long as I usually sleep. I don’t need any more rest. Have a seat and let’s talk this out.” Better to get it over with so they could move on with their jobs and she could put all the Ben-confusion behind her.  
  
“Okay.” He pulled a chair from the wall a little closer to her bed and sat down while asking, “So how long do you usually sleep?”  
  
Leslie shrugged. “Oh, three or four hours. Why?”  
  
Ben’s eyebrows shot up as he settled into his chair. “Wow.”  
  
People always said stuff like that, but Leslie didn’t see the big deal. Anyway, on with business. “So,” she said, “I know things have been—icy—between us for the past few weeks. And that was mostly my fault. And I’m sorry. You’re a valuable member of my team, and I shouldn’t have treated you that way. I apologize.”  
  
Ben rubbed his chin. “Uh. Okay. Well, I thought that for a while there I was more than just a member of your team. I thought we were friends. And I feel like I did something to screw that up, and I don’t know what it was. And I really hope it wasn’t—you know—turning you down. Because if it was, that seems a little petty.”  
  
Leslie gritted her teeth together. So he wanted to get into this? Fine. She’d get into it. “It wasn’t. Because, yes, that would be petty. But you know what else would be petty? Telling someone you can’t date them because of an ethics rule when really it’s because you have feelings for Tonya from Indy. I don’t like being lied to.”  
  
Ben scowled. “Tonya? What the hell are you talking about? I already told you that Tonya and I are just friends.”  
  
“And Andy told me that you told him that you thought she was your soulmate but you were nervous about starting a relationship with her.” She couldn’t stop the harsh tone in her voice as the words burst out. She’d been stewing over this for so long, and talking about it reminded her how much it hurt.  
  
“Andy? _Andy_ told you that? And—and you believed him?” Ben’s forehead furrowed with a bunch of narrow grooves that Leslie was pretty sure meant he was angry.  
  
“He said that Chris had told him about you and Tonya, and I figured that your roommate slash business partner slash best friend might be a pretty reliable source,” Leslie replied defensively.  
  
“Oh god.” Ben hopped to his feet and started pacing, running a hand through his hair. After a moment he stopped and met Leslie eyes. “Okay—I have no idea why Chris told him that. And I intend to have words with Chris about it when I see him later.” Ben shook his hands in front of him in emphasis. “But I am _not_ interested in Tonya. I never have been, and I never will be.”  
  
Fine. So Andy had gotten his information wrong. Leslie really should have expected that. But there were still unanswered questions. “But you definitely talked to Andy about being interested in dating someone. If it wasn’t Tonya, who was it?”  
  
Ben sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He looked at the ground. “It doesn’t matter who it was, because she doesn’t feel the same way about _me_. It’s a moot point.”  
  
Leslie squeezed her lips together and felt a wobbling in her stomach that had nothing to do with how good those waffles smelled and everything to do with her sudden suspicion about exactly who Ben really might have been talking about with Andy, and how horribly she might have screwed things up. _I can’t think about this now. What’s done is done. Like he said, it’s a moot point._  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I took hearsay for truth, and overreacted to that hearsay. I’m the worst.”  
  
Ben shook his head. “You’re not the worst. You’re just—passionate about things. Sometimes about the wrong things.”  
  
“God. I’m sorry.”  
  
“Apology accepted.” Ben nodded. He sank back into his chair and sighed. “So that’s really what you’ve been upset about for the past month?”  
  
“At first, yes,” Leslie admitted. “I got it into my head that you were a liar, and I started wondering what else you might have been lying about. And then, after I proposed the Harvest Festival, you brought up the whole teen-mayor thing.”  
  
“Ah. That. I was wondering where you’d stumbled across the name Ben Adams.” He looked up at her with intent eyes.  
  
Ugh. Time to fess up. “I thought you looked familiar when you first came to town, and when you brought up the teen mayor and Ice Town, I finally put two and two together. I dug an old scrapbook out of my garage and there you were—or at least teenage you—staring up at me. I mean, that was you, wasn’t it?”  
  
Ben looked down at his hands and nodded. “Yep. That was me.”  
  
“I thought so.” She still felt pretty foolish for the Tonya accusations, but she might as well get all her foolishness done in one fell swoop. She popped open the container of whipped cream and scooped a finger full into her mouth to bolster her confidence. “Okay. Here’s the deal. I was mad at you for pretending like that story was about a friend instead of owning your own failure. I think it was a wimpy, cowardly thing to do. When I have failures, I don’t hide from them. I stare at one of my failures every time I visit Ann’s house. I failed to turn that lot into a park. And there’s a long—long—list of failures that came before that, and I’m sure there will be a long list that comes after. I won’t hide from any of it. And you shouldn’t hide from yours, either. You should own it, and learn from it, and grow from it, and get on with your life.” She took a deep breath. “That being said, I can’t imagine how horrible the people of your hometown must have been to you to make you feel like you had to run away and change your name in order to get a fresh start. And it was wrong of me to throw it in your face like that last night, and I’m sorry.”  
  
Ben leaned back in his chair, but still didn’t meet her eyes. “Okay. Considering you were pretty delirious at the time, I think I can forgive you. And I see your point. I shouldn’t have pretended that my story was about a friend. I guess I just—I—I never thought I’d have any occasion to revisit that time in my life. I’ve put it behind me, and I never wanted to look back. But seeing you put yourself on the line like this for the Harvest Festival stirred up all those old memories, and I don’t want to see you get hurt the way I got hurt. But I should have been straightforward about it. I’m sorry for lying to you.”  
  
Leslie studied his face—letting her eyes linger for the first time in a month. He still wouldn’t meet her gaze. What kind of horrible place was Partridge, Minnesota that the people there had damaged an idealistic young man to the point that he’d wanted to run away from it forever? “Hey,” she said, “it’s okay. What I did to you this past month—god—I was such a jerk. At this point you shouldn’t have to apologize to me ever, for anything. I don’t even know why you were so nice to me this week after the way I’ve treated you. If someone treated _me_ that way, I’m not sure I’d ever forgive them. I don’t really deserve forgiveness. Or waffles. Yet here you are. With both. I don’t get it. Why haven’t you written me off as a complete jerk, yet?”  
  
Ben finally looked up and held her gaze. “I haven’t written you off because I believe that you’re a genuinely good person. And when good people make mistakes, they deserve another chance.” His lips curled up, good humor brightening his eyes. “They especially deserve another chance when they apologize.”  
  
Leslie smiled back at him. “Thanks. I’m still not sure I deserve another chance. Just thinking about how awful I was to you this past month makes me cringe. I owe you big time.”  
  
“You don’t owe me anything.” Ben shook his head.  
  
“Yes. I do.” Leslie closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, remembering all the ways she’d snubbed and shunned him over the past few weeks. All over a few simple misunderstandings. What had she been thinking? Had she been thinking of anything other than her own hurt feelings? “Look—I have it on pretty good authority that I can be a pretty awesome friend sometimes. And I owe you about a year of awesome-friend times to make up for the super crappy friend I was this past month. I personally guarantee that you will never be bored or lonely again for as long as you live in Pawnee.”  
  
Ben was smiling again, but he shook his head. “You don’t have to do that.”  
  
“I want to. Really. Starting now. Come share these waffles with me.”  
  
Ben raised his eyebrows.  
  
Leslie scooted over to make room on the bed, and patted the spot beside her. “Come on. Come share with me.”  
  
“Okay.” Looking bemused, he rose and walked to the bed perching gingerly on the edge.  
  
Leslie cracked open the box of waffles and pulled one out, then offered it to Ben. “Help yourself.”  
  
He smiled and looked at her out of the corners of his eyes while ripping a section of waffle off for himself.  
  
“And don’t forget the whipped cream,” she added, putting the container in between them and dipping a piece of her own waffle. Ben followed suit, and for a few minutes they were both occupied with munching down their waffles.  
  
After licking the last of the whipped cream off of her fingers, Leslie worked up the courage to take on a sensitive subject one last time. “So—were they really horrible to you back in Partridge after the impeachment?”  
  
Ben dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin, his eyes darted downward again. “Yeah. It was really crappy. There was lots of name calling. And shunning. I couldn’t get a job. People vandalized my car. They picked on my brother. I got rocks thrown at me a few times.”  
  
Leslie’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god! What kind of people do that to a kid who just wanted to dream big?”  
  
Ben sighed and shrugged. “I guess the people of Partridge aren’t as forgiving as the people of Pawnee.” He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “I know you love your town, but sometimes I don’t think you realize just how good you have it here. Pawnee is a really special place. I’m glad I ended up here.”  
  
Leslie’s breath caught in her throat for a moment. How could he be so nice to her right now? He ought to still be mad at her. _She_ was still mad at her. “I’m glad you’re here, too.”  
  
The silence hung between them for a moment, weighing on her. Finally she cleared her throat. “So—was all that trouble in Partridge why you changed your name?”  
  
She could practically see the walls coming back up in his eyes, and immediately regretted asking the question.  
  
He nodded stiffly. “Yeah—well—a—a time came when I felt like I needed a fresh start and a new identity to protect me from my past. But there’ve been lots of times since then that I’ve regretted the choice to change my name and walk away from my history. I wish I could open up about it with people. But, uh, so much has happened to Ben Wyatt that I don’t think I could go back. I’m Ben Wyatt, now, for better or for worse.”  
  
“Well,” said Leslie, smiling, “I never knew Ben Adams, but I’m sure he was a good kid, and deserved better than what Partridge gave him. But I do know Ben Wyatt. And he’s a good man. A really good one. And I’ve misjudged him for the last time. I promise.”  
  
“Thanks,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “That means a lot. Really.”  
  
As he held her gaze, all the old attraction welled back up inside of her. She’d really screwed things up. Any chance they’d ever had at romance was probably dead by now. But they could still be friends—and she was determined to make up for lost time.  
  
“Well, now that we’re friends again, we can appreciate Pawnee together,” she said. “Starting tomorrow night, when we appreciate J.J.’s diner together when I buy you dinner.”  
  
“Leslie, you don’t—”  
  
“No.” She cut him off. “I insist. I still owe you a ton of awesome-friend time, remember? I’m taking you to dinner. And that’s just the beginning. There’s plenty more friend-time where that came from.”  
  
His smile relaxed again. “There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”  
  
“Not a chance.”  
  
“Okay.” He nodded. “In that case, I look forward to it.”  
  
“Good,” said Leslie, fighting to quell the butterflies in her stomach. “Me too.”  
  
A few minutes later, as Ben was leaving to let her rest, Leslie called after him, "Hey—I had the wand in my purse last night. I guess it really did work as a good luck charm. So thanks for that."  
  
"Yeah. You're welcome." His parting smile was enough to leave her happy for the rest of the morning. Until lunch time.  
  
Hospital food really sucked.  
  
 _TBC_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter originally published on LiveJournal in June 2012

When Chris returned home from his morning jog late Saturday morning, he found Ben sitting in the living room looking perturbed.  
  
Chris raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong, buddy? I thought you said last night went well?"  
  
"It did," said Ben, tapping his knees with his fingers. "And I dropped by the hospital this morning to see Leslie. She's doing a lot better. They'll discharge her sometime this afternoon. We had a good talk and worked out most of the issues we've been having lately."  
  
"Oh." Chris nodded, smiling. He'd noticed the distance between Ben and Leslie over the past few weeks. He'd thought it might be a good thing. So while it was nice for Ben to have his friend back, in the long run getting too attached to Pawnee or anyone living here probably wasn't the best idea. "That's great news."  
  
"Yeah. I thought so." Ben stared him down with an icy gaze.  
  
What in the world was bothering him? "Hey—would you like to go out for some lunch? I found a restaurant that serves a wonderful vegan fettuccine. You'd love it."  
  
"I'm more restless than hungry. How about some sparring?"  
  
If that's what it took to cheer his friend up, then Chris was happy to do it. "That is literally the best way to cool down from my run."  
  
Within minutes they had relocated to the lush patch of grass along the street bordering their condo complex. Chris held a striking pad against his chest while Ben practiced punches and jabs. "Way to go! Good one!" Chris kept up a steady stream of compliments, and they must have been working because Ben's strikes got harder and harder, and the scowl of concentration on his face deepened. Chris had dig in his heels and brace his legs to remain steady on his feet.  
  
"So," said Ben, punctuating the word with another punch, "why'd you tell Andy I was interested in Tonya?" He struck the pad again with a rapid combination which left Chris teetering.  
  
Oh dear.  
  
"Ben—I can explain."  
  
Ben unleashed another combination that pushed Chris back several steps. "Can you?" growled Ben. "Can you really? You knew Andy would tell Leslie—didn't you?" He pummeled the pad, knocking Chris back even further.  
  
This could easily get out of control. "Calm down. Let's discuss this like reasonable adults."  
  
Ben continued to scowl, but he backed off a step before replying. "Yeah. Because it was very reasonable and adult to try to sabotage my relationship with Leslie."  
  
Chris felt a pang of guilt, and the striking pad sagged in his arms. Upon reflection, his actions _had_ been somewhat petty.  
  
"You know how miserable and paranoid I've been for the past year and a half. You _know_. And then I find this one thing—this one person—that helps me feel safe and happy. I finally have a good life again. And you try to screw it up. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Ben spread his arms and shook his head.  
  
A hard knot worked its way up Chris's chest. He knew what it was—that dark, unpleasant feeling that he tried so hard to avoid. This time he didn't think he could stop it. He tossed the striking pad to the ground and took a deep breath, trying to erase the growing frustration. "You were getting too attached. This isn't your real life, and you can't let yourself get too involved—"  
  
"But you can?" Ben countered, closing the distance between them with a fiery glare on his face. "You spend three or four nights a week living it up with Ann, having a grand old time, but when I find someone that I care about, suddenly I'm getting too involved?"  
  
"Yes," Chris replied, that knot in his chest getting more painful by the second. "You are. Ann and I aren't serious. We're just having fun—blowing off some steam. This isn't real, and I'm not trying to make it real."  
  
"Damn it, Chris," Ben replied, oblivious to Chris's struggle, "that's exactly the problem. You don't seem to get that these are real people with real feelings. Ann and Andy and April aren't just your toys to play with and then throw away. Pawnee isn't some elaborate fantasy game. This is real. What you do here has real consequences for these people and this town, and I'm sick of you acting like it's all just a game of make-believe."  
  
That was it. Chris couldn't stop the rising knot anymore. It had actually happened: he was angry.   
  
"Do you know what I'm sick of?" he demanded with a tone of fierceness in his voice that frightened him, "I'm sick of the fact that for you, this life is getting _too_ real. You aren't Ben Wyatt. He's an elaborate hoax. But you're treating him like he's a real person who can make real friends and have a real job and settle down and fall in love." Chris almost choked on that last word. "But he's not. He's not real."  
  
Ben's shoulders slumped. "I'm not—I didn't—damn it." He turned away and rubbed his face with his hands.  
  
Chris knew he should stop. He should calm himself and spend a few hours meditating. But now that the dam had broken he just couldn't stop the flow. "You talk about having a good life. Being happy. Finding someone you care about. Well—I had all those things. And you convinced me to throw them away." Chris's throat burned as he spoke, and his face felt far hotter than after a long run. "It was for the greater good, you said. We'd be agents of justice. We'd be making the world a better place. You said that. You convinced me." He shook his head, and his chest ached, but the more he spoke the more he felt that hard knot unraveling. "I was happy in Atlanta. I had a good life there—a nice condo, lots of friends, and a woman . . ." Chris faltered as Kelsey's face rose to the forefront of his mind, bringing a new wave of pain with it. But he couldn't push the memory back down. Not yet. He had to get this off his chest. "And I woman that I loved." He sighed, feeling drained, and sank to the ground.  
  
He sat with his knees bent, and leaned forward to rest his head in his hands. "I had the life I'd always wanted," he murmured. "I was ready to quit Everson's and walk away with my hands clean. But you convinced me we had to do more. So I gave up everything and everyone I cared about." Tears welled in his eyes as he let himself remember the night he'd broken up with Kelsey. He hadn't been able to tell her why—he'd still been working at Everson's and doubling as an informant for the FBI. But he'd known things were getting dangerous, and he had to break up with her to keep her safe.  
  
He hadn't realized how permanently his own heart would be broken in the process.  
  
Chris had never been ashamed to cry. He believed that the social taboo against masculine tears in the United States was absurd. But he hadn't let himself cry over the life he'd given up for this case. Not until now.  
  
His shoulders shook with emotion. Ben sat down beside him and patted him lightly on the back.  
  
"Hey, man. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. This has been hard on us both. I'm sorry."  
  
Chris drew in a shuddering breath and met his friend's eyes again. "I owe you an apology as well. I admit it—I saw you finding the kind of life here that I'd left behind in Atlanta, and I envied you. And I engaged in less than admirable tactics to undermine you. It was beneath me, and I offer you my deepest apologies."  
  
Ben nodded, his mouth edging into a slight smile. "It's okay. I get it."  
  
Chris wrapped an arm around Ben's shoulders and drew the man into a brotherly embrace. "We shouldn't be at odds with one another. For better or for worse, we're in this together. We're a team. You're all I've got."  
  
Ben's shoulders heaved, and he looked down at the ground. "And you're all I've got."  
  
A new lightness filled Chris's being. All the resentment and envy that had built up over the past few months felt like it had drained away with his tears. "My friend—I vow to you that from this day forward there will be no more backstabbing. If there is an issue that needs to be discussed, we discuss it openly and honestly. Agreed?"  
  
"Agreed." Ben nodded.  
  
Chris smiled. "Good. Now—I respect that your friendship with Leslie is important to you. I won't interfere with it again. However, I do feel that I need to remind you that if our cover identities are ever compromised, anyone who you've gotten close to will become a potential target for Everson's hired guns. I genuinely fear that if you let yourself get too close, Leslie and your other friends could be put in harm's way."  
  
"I know." Ben drew in a long breath. "I know. I'll try not to get _too_ close. But—but I really like it here. And I really like these people. And I feel like if I'm going to go into that trial with any kind of confidence, I need to take advantage of the life I've found here. I feel like a better, stronger man because of these people, and I'm not going to give that up."  
  
"I understand." It actually warmed Chris's heart to hear Ben express such a deeply felt sentiment. "I only ask that you be careful."  
  
"I will be. And while we're on the subject of being careful . . ." Ben gave Chris a pointed look.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Based on the way Ann acts around you, and a few things that Andy and Leslie have said," Ben paused and shrugged, "I just—I think she might be more serious about your relationship than you are. You really need to have a talk with her."  
  
Chris frowned. Ben's earlier accusation of treating Ann like a plaything had stung—mostly because he was afraid it might be true. "You're right. I'll have a talk with her, and we'll decide whether or not to continue our relationship."  
  
"Good." Ben nodded. "I think that's for the best."  
  
The two men sat in silence for a minute, soaking up the warm late-summer morning.  
  
"You really loved Kelsey, didn't you?" said Ben softly.  
  
The ache in Chris's chest was still there, but it didn't seem quite so unbearable anymore now that he could talk about it. "I did. I think, in some ways, I still do. But I had to end it. I had to protect her. No one close to us is safe right now. It's for the best."  
  
"Yeah," said Ben, staring at the clouds crawling across the sky. "It's for the best."  
  
***  
  
The vegan fettuccine wasn't as bad as Ben had expected, and he smiled through his meal. He owed it to Chris after their fight. Yes, Chris had been petty. But in so many ways he'd also been right.  
  
Ben really had been responsible for yanking Chris's perfect life out from under him. And anyone either of them got close to really would be at risk. Maybe it was selfish of him to cling to his new friends here in Pawnee and risk putting them in harm's way, but they were the best thing that had happened to him since that long ago day when he first uncovered evidence of wrongdoing at Everson's.   
  
As Chris yammered on about the health benefits of raw vegetables, Ben's mind drifted (as it all too often did) back to Leslie. So they were going to be friends again.   
  
For his first few months in Pawnee Ben had come to idealize Leslie and put her on a pedestal. He saw that now. But their falling out had shown him that she really was just another flawed human being who sometimes made stupid mistakes, held dumb grudges, and acted more than a little petty.  
  
Getting her down off that pedestal was a good thing—Ben couldn't deny it. Yet, at the same time knowing that she was only human but could still pull off amazing feats like her near-miraculous speech at the Chamber of Commerce made him respect her even more. Any chance that they could be more than friends had probably passed (which was for the best), but he couldn't help but feel something special for her. More than anything, he wished that he could earn her respect the same way she'd earned his. And he wanted to earn it for his real self—not just his cover identity.  
  
"I have a question about Kelsey," he said, interrupting Chris.  
  
Chris blinked a few times, his mouth hanging open a little. "Yes?"  
  
"Did you ever consider telling her the truth? Like, you could have brought her in on our secret instead of breaking up with her?"  
  
Chris looked at his plate, a thoughtful expression on his face. "No. Her safety was of primary importance to me. Ending our relationship was the best way to protect her."  
  
Ben tapped his finger on the table, trying to figure out just how to phrase his next question. "Don't you think that maybe you should have let her make that decision for herself?"  
  
Chris knit his brows, looking puzzled.  
  
"I mean," added Ben, "you trusted her, right?"  
  
"Absolutely." Chris nodded.  
  
"So you could have told her the truth and let her make up her mind for herself. Maybe she would have decided you were worth the risk. Then you could've been here with her, instead of just with me."   
  
"But she wouldn't have been safe." Chris looked puzzled.  
  
Ben sighed. "I don't know. I guess I was just thinking that we chose not to be safe because we thought it was worth it. Maybe she would have made the same choice—but you never gave her the chance. Instead, you made the choice for her." He shrugged. It was stupid. He could totally see Chris's point of view. Of course he wanted to protect Kelsey—this wasn't her problem, and she shouldn't have to be a part of it. But still—what if she would have chosen to take on the risks for Chris's sake?  
  
"You do bring up some interesting food for thought," said Chris, nodding slowly. "I'll have to ponder it. However—I feel compelled to say that before you go making any grand romantic gestures by confiding the truth in Leslie, you really need to be absolutely certain of what you're doing. Take your time to be sure."  
  
"Whoa whoa whoa." Ben waved his hands in front of his chest. "That's not where I was headed. I never—really—just—no. "  
  
Chris raised an eyebrow. "Really?"  
  
"Really," insisted Ben. "You've clearly got it in your head that I'm falling in love with Leslie, and you're completely off base with that. I—I mean, I like her. I care about her as a friend. But that's it. You really need to drop this whole love thing."  
  
"All right," replied Chris. "I was mistaken. And I apologize."  
  
"It's okay." Ben struggled to meet Chris's eyes. "I just—I do care about her. But romance is the last thing I need in my life right now. Really. It's just—it's not in the cards for me. So. Yeah."  
  
"Okay." Chris nodded. "I understand."  
  
"Okay," Ben replied. He took up his fork and shoved another bite of vegan fettuccine in his mouth before that particular conversational topic could be drawn out any further. So maybe he cared about her as a little more than a friend. That didn't mean he was falling in love with her. Really.  
  
And no, he wasn't planning on any grand romantic gestures. He just wanted to know what it would be like to live in a world where getting impeached and then bullied a little was the only thing bad enough to cause someone to want to change their name and start over. If only that really was the worst that could happen.  
  
Chris had been on the right track about one thing—though he knew it was probably a bad idea, Ben wanted to tell Leslie the truth.  
  
***  
  
On his date with Ann that Sunday evening, Chris finally did what Ben and Andy had recommended—more or less.  
  
As they were enjoying their salads, he broached the topic as delicately as possible. "Ann," he said in between bites, "I enjoy Pawnee. Very much."  
  
Ann grinned. She had lovely teeth. "I enjoy Pawnee, too."  
  
"And I enjoy our time together. You are literally one of the most amazing women that I have ever known." Chris smiled fondly at her, taking in her sparkling eyes.  
  
She flushed. "I think you're pretty amazing, too."  
  
It felt good to hear, but, for the first time Chris noticed what Andy and Ben must have already seen—the rather moonstruck look in Ann's eyes. So he'd have to go through with this. He took a deep breath. "And because I enjoy both Pawnee and your company so much, it pains me that I can't make long term plans here."  
  
Ann's smile faltered. "Oh."  
  
"You know that my consulting contract with the city ends just before Thanksgiving, as does our lease on our condo."  
  
Ann nodded, looking down at her salad. "I remember you mentioning something like that."  
  
It hurt to see the upset expression on her face, but Chris soldiered onward. "Ben and I are already actively looking for consulting contracts elsewhere, and I fear that Pawnee won't be our home for long."  
  
"Are you looking in Indianapolis?" Ann looked up, a pleading expression on her face.  
  
"Of course we are," replied Chris. After all, if he really were Chris Traeger, independent budget consultant, he most certainly would be looking in Indianapolis. "Indy and its surrounds are right at the top of our list. So, for as long as I remain in the area, I would very much like to continue to spend time with you. However, if you're looking for someone who can give you more certain assurances of a long term relationship, I will completely understand if you wish to end our relationship."  
  
Ann immediately perked up, her expression serious. "I don't want to break up. Do you want to break up?"  
  
"Not at all—as I just explained to you. But I can't make you any promises or commitments beyond the end of my time here in Pawnee. My future is simply too uncertain." There. It was all on the table now.  
  
Ann took a deep breath, and nodded. "Okay. Well—that's all right. I understand. It's very thoughtful of you to give me an out like this. But I'm okay with just taking things a day at a time, right now. Just enjoying every moment as it comes."  
  
Perfect. Chris's heart swelled. He may not love Ann Perkins, but she truly was a wonderful woman and he couldn't be happier. "That is delightful news. I'm so glad we're on the same page about this."  
  
Ann smiled back. "Me too."   
  
***  
  
Leslie's first awesome-friend outing with Ben was great. A little more low-key than she liked, but she still hadn't recovered her normal energy level after her bout of flu. Ben kept giving her concerned looks and asking her if she was sure she was up to this. Leslie just had to roll her eyes. When she'd been trying to hate him she'd almost forgotten how cutely considerate he could be.  
  
This time Ben made the right decision and ordered breakfast for dinner. Not waffles, but still, it was a step in the right direction. As they relaxed into their conversation, Leslie discovered just how great it was to have someone that she could chat about her Harvest Festival plans with in a non-work way. With Ben, over dinner at J.J.'s, she could simply talk about her hopes and dreams for the festival, and go through her memories of the festival from her childhood. None of her other work pals would listen to her ramble like this—and even Ann got a little bored by it. But Ben kept asking questions and pushing for more details. He even shared some childhood memories of visiting carnivals and festivals in Minnesota.  
  
God, she'd been an idiot to hold a grudge against him for a whole month.  
  
Ben insisted she go home after dinner to get a good night's sleep before heading back to work the next day, and she didn't put up much of a fight. That flu had really taken it out of her. But before leaving she made sure to arrange a lunch date for Tuesday. And she planned on brainstorming a whole list of other platonic-friends activities to do with him over the next few months. She might have to make some of them group activities, or it might get hard to keep the proper platonic-friends vibe going . . . she'd have to think it over.  
  
While they were waiting for the check, Ben turned the conversation in an odd direction.  
  
"Have you read about that Everson Pharmaceutical's trial?" he asked, looking way tenser than he should be after a good J.J.'s dinner. Leslie hoped Pedro hadn't undercooked Ben's eggs.  
  
"Ummm." Leslie thought for moment, trying to call up that name in her brain. "Oh—yeah. I remember. I've seen a few news segments on it. I don't remember all the details—something about price fixing?"  
  
"The CEO and a few of the other top executives are being charged with a bunch of different financial crimes. And when Everson deliberately stopped production on one of their newer cancer drugs in an attempt to artificially elevate the price, a few hundred people lost access to their treatments. More than a hundred people that had been on their way to remission had their cancer flare back up, and nearly twenty deaths have been tied to the shortage of drug supplies. The prosecution is trying to charge George Everson with negligent homicide. It's a pretty big case."  
  
"Huh." Leslie knit her brows. Why was Ben bringing this up? "So, are you a trial junkie or something?"  
  
"What?" Ben raised an eyebrow and sat up a little straighter. "No. Well—I do sometimes follow the bigger cases. But, uh, I know you're interested in the interplay between private industry and government regulations. And that comes into play a lot in this case. I think you'd find the details fascinating—you should look it up."  
  
Normally, yes, this was the sort of thing she'd research in her evening hours before bed. But with the Harvest Festival barreling toward her she wasn't sure she'd have time. But it was nice of Ben to remember her interests and bring it up. "Sure. When I get a chance I'll definitely look it up."  
  
He still looked tense when he nodded in reply. She'd have to give Pedro a talking to about his cooking techniques next time she saw him.  
  
***  
  
It had been years since Ben had enjoyed work this much. He'd been a good corporate accountant—a damn good one, or he'd never have found the evidence that set him down this path. And he'd gotten regular promotions and raises. But he'd never felt any kind of passion for the work, other than the drive to excel. All these years later he'd still felt like he had something to prove.  
  
But his work in Pawnee, overseeing the implementation of all the budget-based shakeups and helping Leslie with the Harvest Festival, actually excited him. He could see how the decisions he made and the tasks he took on would make an actual difference in the community. A positive difference.  
  
It felt amazing.  
  
No less amazing was the way Leslie kept her word and drew him completely into her social life. Whether it was group outings with some of her other colleagues for lunch or coffee, more target shooting with Ron, or the two of them putting in a repeat visit to the laser tag arena or checking out the latest release at the Pawnee Monoplex, he hadn't had so much fun in his social life in years.  
  
It was almost like dating someone new and exciting. Only—not.  
  
All too frequently he found himself itching to take Leslie's hand, or to wrap his arm around her shoulders—or even to lean in for a kiss.  
  
 _It's not in the cards_ , he kept reminding himself. _I can't get involved. Not like that._  
  
He hoped that if he repeated those phrases to himself often enough, he'd start to believe them.  
  
One night in the middle of September, Andy joined Ben and Leslie at laser tag. It had been Ben's idea. Andy seemed really down, lately.  
  
After their first match ended Leslie went to the ladies room, and Ben decided to broach a sensitive topic with Andy.  
  
"So—are you still, uh, having . . . issues with April?" Ben hadn't been privy to all the goings on of Andy's increasingly desperate courtship lately, now that April had gone back to her place in the Parks Department.  
  
Andy sighed. "I don't get it. Eduardo is gone. April and me are talking again. I've apologized about a million times. But she still won't forgive me for kissing Ann. I don't know what else to do. Do you have any ideas?"  
  
Ugh. This was why Ben didn't usually engage people in emotional discussions. They always wanted advice. "Um." The first thought that came to his mind was that Andy ought to try dating other people, but somehow he didn't think that would go over very well. "I don't know. It's a heck of a quandary."  
  
Andy looked at him with an expression of blank confusion.  
  
"It sucks," said Ben.  
  
"It sucks big time," said Andy, nodding emphatically. "I told April about kissing Ann because of honesty is important. But sometimes I wish I'd never told her. If she never found out we would've been together all summer, instead of fighting. They shouldn't show little kids Pinocchio and make them think that lying is always bad, 'cause Jiminy Cricket is full of crap. Sometimes telling the truth really screws things up."  
  
Leslie was walking back toward them with a radiant smile on her face, and Ben's chest felt tight. He'd been dropping hints about the Everson trial to her a few times a week in the hope that she'd look it up and find his and Chris's names in some of the articles, but she hadn't yet. Maybe he'd be better off if she didn't.  
  
Ben nodded. "Yeah. Sometimes the truth can screw things up big time."  
  
***  
  
"Every time I ask him how the job hunt is going, he changes the subject. What do you think that means?" Ann asked Leslie over lunch.  
  
Leslie poked at her salad a few times, and then pushed it aside in favor of her sandwich. "Maybe there's just no news at all, or at least no good news. And since Chris always wants to be positive, he's just trying not to talk about it."  
  
"Yeah." Ann nodded. "You're probably right. I guess I just really hope he can find something near Indy. I think if he knows he can stay in the area, this relationship could really go somewhere, you know?"  
  
"I know." Leslie sighed and took a bite of her sandwich. She'd been having variations on this conversation with Ann ever since Chris dropped the "we can't get serious" bomb on her last month. She felt bad for Ann, but she was getting a little sick of it. Especially since it kept reminding her that if Chris ended up moving out of the area, a certain someone else would be moving, too. Leslie absolutely did _not_ want to think about that. Not when she needed her full concentration for the Harvest Festival.  
  
As if reading her mind, the next words out of Ann's mouth were, "And what about you and Ben?"  
  
Leslie blinked a few times. "Uh, what about us?"  
  
"Well, if you found out he could stay in the area, maybe the two of you could finally get together." Ann quirked her lips and shrugged.  
  
"Get to—what?" Leslie forced a laugh. "Maybe I was attracted to him for a while, but now we're totally just friends. That's all."  
  
Ann raised an eyebrow. "Uh huh. So that's why the two of you practically have hearts in your eyes every time you look at each other."  
  
Leslie rolled her eyes. Ann was exaggerating. Sure, she and Ben liked to spend time together. And she'd even go so far as to admit that her attraction to him wasn't as much in the past as she claimed. And maybe there'd been a sex dream or two. _Okay, fine, five—but who's counting?_ Leslie thought, feeling her cheeks get warm. "I don't know. Maybe, if I knew he was staying—maybe. But we don't know if he's staying. And he seems pretty content with the friends thing we have going. So I'll be content with it, too."  
  
"Leslie—sometimes you can't just wait around for good things to happen to you. You need to treat your personal life more like your career: if you want something, just go for it. If you want Ben, you should just go for it."  
  
Ann's advice sounded all well and good, but this was Ben. The guy she'd hated and then befriended and then hated again, and . . . She shook her head. "It's more complicated than that."  
  
"Is it?" Ann gave her a pointed look. "Is it really?"  
  
Leslie's mind skimmed back over all the times she'd misjudged Ben over the months they'd known each other. The yelling at him followed by him trying to help her formulate her own departmental budget. The more yelling at him followed by him procuring a children's concert for her. The even more yelling at him followed by him trying to help her clean up road kill. And him jumping in front of presumed gunfire for her (okay, so maybe that moment had featured in one of the sex dreams). Then the weeks of flirting and him spearheading the 5K to save youth sports—followed by even more of her yelling at him and giving him the cold shoulder. She winced remembering it.  
  
No. She couldn't come back from that. She'd managed friends, again. Friends tinged with light, inconsequential flirting. But it could never be more than that. Not after how insane and judgmental she'd been. She shook her head. "It is. I know you mean well, you sweet naïve bird of paradise hatchling. But that ship has sailed."  
  
Ann huffed, the corners of her lips turning downward. "I still think you're wrong. Your friendship may have been rocky, but right now you two are pretty much dating without the benefits of sleeping together. It's ridiculous."  
  
"It is what it is." Leslie shrugged. She usually advocated optimism, but in this instance she was convinced that Ann was wrong.  
  
"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you. I think day will come when you realize that Ben is exactly who you want to be with, and you'll discover that you waited too long and missed your chance. And you might regret that for a very long time."  
  
Leslie looked down, biting her lip. Ann hadn't been there in the hospital that morning when Ben visited. She hadn't seen the look on his face when he told Leslie that it didn't matter who he'd been interested in dating, because: _"she doesn't feel the same way about me."_  
  
That was the moment when she'd known her chances with Ben had all passed. Yet, he'd forgiven her more than she ever would have imagined. What if there was still the slightest possibility of a chance. . . ?   
  
She looked up to meet Ann's gaze. "What if I try again, and he rejects me? What would I do?" Just the thought made her lose her appetite—something that rarely happened.  
  
Ann reached across the table to squeeze Leslie's hand. "Then I'll be here. And we'll go to a bar and get really drunk and spend the night bashing men. And then you'll get over him and move on."  
  
"What if I can't?" The fear rose like bile in her throat.  
  
"You can if I'm there to help you," replied Ann.  
  
That's why she was the best friend ever.  
  
***  
  
Ben had thought that witnessing a shouting match between Ron Swanson and his ex-wife in the middle of a bar was strangest thing that had happened to him in a long time. That was, until he had to go with Leslie to bail Ron out of jail the next morning and he saw what Ron and that same ex-turned-current-wife were wearing. And doing. Ick.  
  
After stressing all morning that Leslie had blown their chance at getting the Pawnee police force to provide volunteer security at the Harvest Festival, Ben dutifully attended Leslie's impromptu intervention for Ron. When his turn to speak came, Ben searched for the right words.  
  
He took a deep breath. "Look—Ron. I know I don't know you as well as most of the other people here. But I do know that what you have going on here," he gestured at Ron's corn-row and kimono get-up, "isn't healthy. It isn't you. And it isn't love."   
  
Ron snorted derisively at that, but Ben kept going. "This kind of crazy passion and animal lust isn't real love. I mean—there should be passion and lust. But there should be more than just that. There should be friendship and respect. You need to find someone who understands you, and who accepts you for who you are. You need to find someone who complements you, and who makes you laugh, and who—who makes you smile when nothing else can. You need someone who helps you be your be your best self. And this," Ben gestured again, "is absolutely _not_ your best self. I really don't think Tammy is the one for you."  
  
Unfortunately, Ron wasn't in the mood to listen. And once Tammy arrived, Ben felt the need to vacate the room as quickly as possible. He was still trying to mentally scour away everything he'd seen and heard at the police station and on the ride back with Ron—he didn't need to add any more of that stuff to his brain.  
  
Once he was safely across the department from Ron and Tammy and whatever it was they were getting up to, he slumped against the wall. Andy and Leslie walked up to him.  
  
"That stuff you said about love," said Andy, "was really awesomesauce. That's totally how I feel about April. I've got to win her back."  
  
Ben patted Andy on the arm. "If that's really how you feel about her, then don't stop trying. That sort of thing doesn't come along very often." Ben unconsciously glanced at Leslie. Her eyes were on him, studying him with an intense gaze that made his heart skip.  
  
"That stuff you said was really great," she said softly, and then looked down. "Too bad it didn't sink in. I'm afraid Ron is really going off the deep end this time."  
  
Ben swallowed hard. The moment had ended almost as quickly as it began. "Yeah. Yep. Too bad. You don't think they'll really stay in his cabin for weeks, will they?"  
  
"I don't know," said Andy. "I knew a dude who lived of off Gatorade and sunflower seeds for like, a month. They could probably do it if they really wanted to."  
  
Leslie shook her head and huffed. "I've got to try to talk Ron out of this one more time." She marched bravely back toward the meeting room.  
  
Ben watched go, knowing that there was probably nothing he could do to solve this particular problem. However, there was another problem that he probably _could_ help with. Time to head back to the police station.  
  
***  
  
Leslie sank into her desk chair with a relieved sigh and began wrapping up the last of her busywork for the day. After the craziness of Ron and Tammy, the simple daily tasks felt like soothing relaxation.  
  
Ron had been saved from Tammy's clutches yet again, and all would be right with the world.  
  
After about a half an hour of work Leslie heard a light knock on her doorframe and looked up to see Ben with a smile on his face.  
  
Her heart immediately sped up. His speech from Ron's intervention had been buzzing in the back of her mind all day. She'd tried not to spend _too_ much time analyzing his words, but how could she _not_ think about it at least a little? Had Ben really had a relationship like that in the past? And if so, what had ended it? Or—though she _really_ tried not to dwell on this possibility—was this just an ideal that he looked forward to? Because she felt like she and Ben had something very close to what he'd described. _I can't read too much into this,_ she reminded herself. _I can't let my fantasies overtake reality. Not until I'm sure._  
  
Getting sure was the hard part.  
  
"Hi," she said. "Did you hear the good news about Ron?"  
  
Ben nodded. "Yeah. I ran into Donna in the hall, and she told me. Thank God. And thank Tom, I guess."  
  
"Yeah. Go figure." She sighed. "Well, I guess I'll have to try again with Chief Trumple tomorrow."  
  
"Oh, uh, I actually already went back. And he said yes. They'll give us all the help we need." His smile seemed to have the faintest hint of cockiness to it as he nonchalantly conveyed his news.  
  
God, he looked cute in that ridiculously over-the-top green and orange plaid. "Great! That's wonderful. Thanks so much." Perfect ending to this stress-storm of a day.  
  
"Hey—do you want to go grab something to eat?" he asked.  
  
When she agreed and they headed out to J.J.'s (because she really needed waffles after a day like this), Leslie tried not to think of this as any different than any of the other meals they'd shared together over the past few weeks. But with that speech still fresh in her mind, keeping that resolve proved difficult. She found herself staring a little too long at his eyes, or his mouth, or his cute pointy chin. At one point her mind drifted so far from the conversation that Ben froze, narrowed his eyes, and asked, "Are you okay?"  
  
Leslie shook her head, blinked a few times and realized that she'd had the same bite of whipped-cream laden waffle poised on her fork for more than a minute. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm just—uh—tired. That's all."  
  
Ben nodded. "After all the craziness today, I understand. We should get you home, so you can get an actual full night of sleep tonight."  
  
Leslie nearly dropped her fork in her lamp at the thought of Ben "getting her home," but managed to recover and set it neatly on her plate instead. "Yep. Sounds like a good idea. Home early. Sure thing."  
  
Ben raised an eyebrow, looking puzzled, but let her babbling slide.  
  
When the check arrived, Leslie insisted on paying for the whole thing instead of splitting, like usual. "It's the least I can do to thank you for sealing the deal with Chief Trumple," she insisted.  
  
They headed out to the parking lot, and before parting ways to their separate cars, Leslie paused and took a breath—time to take Ann's advice and just go for it. "This was fun. We should do it again sometime."  
  
Ben looked puzzled again. "Yeah. Weren't we already planning on having lunch with Ann and Chris after that self-defense seminar on Saturday? You're still planning on coming, aren't you?"  
  
Crap. Clearly he hadn't been feeling the same vibes that she'd been feeling. "Yes. Absolutely. Still on my schedule. You can never practice your self-defense moves too many times." The seminar was being sponsored by the Krav Maga studio, and Chris, Ben and Andy were all volunteering to help the teacher lead individual instruction with the attendees. Ann had talked Leslie into attending with the enticement of seeing Ben in shorts and a t-shirt. The very thought of which was enough to make Leslie's heart race even faster.  
  
"Hey," said Ben, his expression softening, "I was wondering . . .?"  
  
"Yes?" she took a step closer to him.  
  
"Do you think—do you think maybe you could convince April to come?"  
  
"Oh." Not the question she'd been hoping for. "Why?"  
  
Ben shrugged. "It's a silly thought, but I really feel for Andy about this whole April thing. I guess I was thinking maybe if she saw how he was trying to improve himself and help the community it might earn him some brownie points, or something. It couldn't hurt."  
  
And this was why she liked him so much. He always seemed to put others first. She nodded. "Sure. You're right. It couldn't hurt. I'll try to get her come."  
  
"Great." He grinned. "Well—see you tomorrow."  
  
Leslie sank into her car and tossed her purse into the passenger seat with a sigh. Apparently she had a new dilemma to solve: when a guy is used to going out with you as friend all the time, how do you get him to recognize when you're asking him on a date?  
  
She'd have to call Ann about it as soon as she got home.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter originally published on LiveJournal in June 2012

Ben was shocked when Ron was the first person to show up for the free self-defense seminar Saturday morning. His mustache still looked decidedly—off.  
  
"After this past week I feel like engaging in physical violence to release the fiery inferno of rage that's built up inside of me," said Ron, clenching his fists menacingly.   
  
"You do know that's not why we're here?" replied Ben. Ron didn't seriously think he'd get to attack someone, did he?  
  
"I called your instructor, Mike, and he agreed to let me be the attacker in his demonstrations. And we'll be sparring after the class. I also brought a photo of Tammy to tape to one of the punching bags. It's not exactly an effigy, but for today it'll do." Ron's face was grim as he spoke.  
  
Ben decided to let that one slide and stepped aside to let Ron talk to Mike. He went back to do some more warm-ups with Chris and Andy.  
  
Closer to the start time, other guests began to arrive at the studio. Ben couldn't help but smile when a very cross-looking April walked in with Leslie and Ann. His smile got even bigger at the sight of Leslie with her hair in pig tails, wearing a form fitting t-shirt and leggings.   
  
Ben, Chris and Andy took their place along one of the walls with the five other volunteer helpers while the seminar guests sat down on the mats in front of the mirror wall in the studio.   
  
"I can't believe April showed up," said Andy in a loud whisper. "She just laughed at me when I invited her."  
  
"Perhaps this is a sign that she's ready to take her interactions with you in a more positive, healthy direction," replied Chris. Ben only hoped he was right.  
  
For the first hour of the seminar Mike lectured on basic self-defense principles, and then Ron helped him demonstrate several techniques. Ron certainly attacked with convincing fury, but Mike still managed to overcome him every time.  
  
After a short break, the seminar broke into small groups so the guests could practice the techniques with the volunteers. Ann, Leslie and April headed right to where Ben, Chris and Andy stood waiting, but as soon as they reached them April shouted, "I'm in Chris's group!"  
  
Ben fumbled for words as Leslie tried to convince April to switch to Andy's group, and somehow in the ensuing chaos Ben ended up in a group with four strangers, while April, Ann and Leslie were all in Chris's group. And poor Andy—looking devastated—ended up with three older ladies.  
  
"Nice legs, Chris," April said in a loud voice as she followed him to an open space in the studio.   
  
Ben frowned. Great. It seemed as if April had seized the opportunity to torture Andy in public.  
  
He gritted his teeth and tried to focus on conducting the practice session with his group, running through each of the basic defensive techniques and letting every member of his group practice with him. Keeping cool and professional, however, grew increasingly harder as April continued to loudly compliment Chris's body and strength.  
  
Ben kept glancing over. Ann looked furious, Leslie looked mortified, and, in another corner of the studio, Andy looked downright miserable. So miserable and distracted, in fact, that the older women in his group seemed to be giving him a pretty thorough beating. Yikes.   
  
Focusing back on his own group, Ben made it through a few more techniques with his group when he heard April exclaim, "Ooo—your skin is so soft!"  
  
A very flustered looking Chris held her in a loose chokehold, and she snuggled up against him.  
  
That was the last straw. Ben frowned. "Can you practice with each other for a few minutes? I'll be right back," he said to his group, and strode over to Chris's group. Ann looked ready to unleash hell on April—and Ben had no doubt Leslie would back her up. It would be far better to intervene himself than risk Leslie losing April's friendship over this.  
  
"Go ahead and let her go," he said to Chris, who dropped his arm and stepped back with a look of relief on his face.  
  
Ben turned to April. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He shook his head. "Look—if you want to keep playing these games with Andy, I can't stop you. But leave Chris out of it. Either step outside, or join another group."  
  
April crossed her arms and pouted. "Who said anything about Andy?"  
  
Ben could only shake his head. "I'm not an idiot, April. You've been carrying on like this all summer. You're not a little kid. You're an adult. It's time to act like one. Either forgive Andy or cut him out of your life and move on. What you're doing right now isn't healthy for either of you."  
  
April glared at him. "Like what you're doing with Leslie is so much more healthy and mature? Take a look in the mirror next time you feel like giving a lecture."  
  
"What?" Ben's jaw dropped. His eyes flew to Leslie. Her face was flushed, and he couldn’t tell if she looked more embarrassed or angry.  
  
Suddenly Ron appeared at April's elbow. "I think you and I should step outside. We need to have a conversation about fishing."  
  
April's eyebrows rose. "I don't fish."  
  
"Step outside with me," Ron growled in an unmistakable tone of command.  
  
To Ben's surprise, April actually followed Ron outside.  
  
Ben let out a sigh of relief. As the door closed behind April, he looked over just in time to see Andy staring at him with a rather morose expression—right as one of his old ladies punched him in the stomach. Hard. He doubled over with an "Oof!"  
  
Not daring to look at Leslie again, Ben hurried over to Andy. The old ladies fluttered around him in concern.  
  
"Hey, man," said Ben, "are you okay?"  
  
"I feel like I got punched in the gut," groaned Andy.  
  
Ben wasn't quite sure if Andy was speaking literally or metaphorically. "I think he needs to sit down for a minute," Ben said to Andy's group, and he led Andy to chair against the wall.  
  
Andy sank down with a grunt.  
  
Ben crouched beside him. "Hey," he said softly. "I'm really sorry about all that stuff with April."  
  
"Do you think she really likes Chris, now?" said Andy, staring at the glass door to where Ron stood outside talking to April.  
  
"No." Ben shook his head. "I don't. I'm pretty sure April was just using Chris to mess with you and Ann." He sighed. It was time to speak some hard truth. "I really think it might be time for you to consider moving on from April. This is no good for you. For either of you."  
  
Andy sunk even lower in his chair. "But she's my soulmate."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
Ben hated watching the despair in Andy's eyes, but in the long run getting over this destructive relationship would be better for him. Wouldn't it? Ben tried very hard not to think of April's biting comment about his relationship with Leslie. The scenarios were completely different. Completely. Weren't they?  
  
"I—I—I don't know," stammered Andy.  
  
Leslie bounded up to stand at Andy's other side. She rested a hand on his shoulder. "I got Chris to combine both of your groups. He and Ann are finishing up the exercises with them."  
  
Ben swallowed and stood up to look at her. "Thanks. We're almost done, here, anyway."  
  
Leslie nodded. She still looked flushed. It was one of those moments where Ben really wished he could read her mind—just for a moment. What must she be thinking of him, right now? Had he completely overstepped his bounds with April?  
  
"Under the circumstances I think we should let Chris and Ann have some alone time this afternoon," she said. "Andy, would you like to go to lunch with Ben and me?"  
  
Ben's eyes widened a little. Oh. So—she wasn't mad at him. Maybe she wasn't even thinking of him at all, as much as of Andy. _How self-centered am I, to assume it's all about me?_  
  
"That would be super awesome, Leslie," said Andy.  
  
The seminar ended a few minutes later. Ron and April were already gone—presumably he'd given her a ride home.  
  
Chris drove off with Ann, and Ben slid into Leslie's back seat, letting Andy ride shotgun. After a big meat-filled sandwich at Ray's, Andy seemed almost himself again. All the conversation revolved around Andy, and Ben didn't mind. Now was hardly the time to fixate on his relationship with Leslie, again.  
  
When they pulled up in front of Andy's house to drop him off, April was sitting on the porch. She actually looked—nervous?  
  
"Um—do you want me to come with you?" asked Ben, leaning forward in his seat.  
  
Andy looked a little paler than usual, but he shook his head. "Naw. I've got this."  
  
He stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind him. When he reached the porch, April stood to talk to him. And Leslie pulled away from the curb.  
  
"You don't want to stay and offer moral support?" asked Ben, feeling very weird about being stuck in the back seat.  
  
"Nope. I think it's time for them to work out their problems on their own," said Leslie. "They can handle it."  
  
Ben wished he had as much faith in people as she did.  
  
When Leslie pulled over to drop Ben off at his condo, she stepped out of the car with him. She rested her hand on top of her car as she spoke to him. "I'm glad you've gotten to be friends with Andy. He's a sweet guy who just needs a little help finding direction in his life. I think you're a great influence for him. It was really great that you stepped up to help him in the class today. April was being a real jerk."  
  
"Yeah. She was." Ben rested his own hand near Leslie's. Thank god her frustration in class had all been concern for her friends. The last thing he wanted was another fight with her. "I still don't completely get what the deal is between her and Andy."  
  
Leslie sighed. "Sometimes love is complicated. I just hope they can work things out, one way or another."  
  
No kidding.  
  
Ben nodded. She held his gaze as if she expected something—but what?  
  
"Well," he finally said, "I brought home some Harvest Festival work that I really ought to get done today."  
  
"Me too," she replied.  
  
"I guess I'll be seeing you on Monday, then."  
  
"I guess so."  
  
As Ben headed up to his condo, he held onto the image of Leslie's face when she said goodbye and slid back into her car. She'd looked—disappointed.  
  
***  
  
Chris had been upset about April and Andy all weekend.   
  
Even after all the effort he'd put in, they were still playing such hurtful, childish games with each other. He'd begun to despair of ever helping them overcome their obstacles.  
  
Which was why, as he walked the corridors of city hall Monday morning with Ben and Leslie, catching up on their Harvest Festival progress, he stopped short when he saw April and Andy snuggling together at the shoe-shine stand.  
  
How had they gone from the self-defense seminar debacle to _this_?  
  
Leslie held up her arms, blocking Chris and Ben from walking forward. "Oh my god," she said. "Is that what I think it is?"  
  
Andy and April laughed at some shared joke, and then shared a short, sweet kiss.  
  
"It is!" Leslie said, bouncing on her heels and clasping her hands in front of her. "It's so wonderful. They've finally come together."  
  
"Yeah—I guess whatever Ron said to April must have worked," said Ben.  
  
Chris's eyebrows shot up. "You think Ron brought this about."  
  
"Absolutely." Leslie nodded. "Ron gives really great advice. When you can get him to care. Let's cut across the courtyard and let those two have their privacy."  
  
"Now we'll see if it lasts," Ben said as they stepped outside.  
  
Leslie swatted him playfully. "Stop being such a cynic and just enjoy the fact that our friends are happy."  
  
Chris couldn't think of a single thing to say. After all this time, and all his efforts, all it took to resolve things between Andy and April was a few words of advice from the somber and disinterested Ron Swanson? It was almost enough to make Chris question whether or not he was as good at reading people as he thought he was.  
  
***  
  
"Come on, Ben! I need you. You have to do this with me. Please?" Leslie felt like screaming in frustration.  
  
"No." His face was grim. "I can't."  
  
Leslie brought her hand down on the notepad that sat on her desk in front of her. "But what if they ask us questions about the budget? We need our numbers guy." Seriously—this media blitz could make or break the Harvest Festival. Why was Ben abandoning her now, when she needed him the most?  
  
Ben's lips were tight. "I don't do media. It's—it's like—stage fright, or something."  
  
"Stage fright?" Leslie could hardly believe her ears. "You're backing out because of _stage fright_?"  
  
"No worries, Leslie," said Tom from his desk. "We don't need this nerd. The camera loves me. I've got the gift of gab. We can cover things."  
  
Leslie rolled her eyes. "Oh—so you're ready to talk all about how the government is justifying this outlay of money so soon after a financial crisis?"  
  
Tom's mouth hung open. "Uhhh. . ."  
  
"He's not," said Ben. "But you _are_."  
  
"What?" she looked back at Ben.  
  
"You've read the budget almost as many times as I have. And I've seen the local news. No one is going to delve too deep. You'll be fine."  
  
As nice as it was to hear how much faith he had in her, Leslie wasn't completely buying it. "I have read the budget a lot—but you wrote it. You know it inside out. Please. I really need you with me." She crossed her fingers under her desk, jiggling her foot nervously.  
  
Ben shook his head again. "I'm sorry. I can't. I wish I could, but I can't."  
  
Damn. He'd always been so eager to help. Why not now?  
  
"Look—we can meet after work today and I'll help you review everything. We'll work out talking points and answers to the most likely questions. I'll make sure you're as prepared as you possibly can be," he said.  
  
"Fine," she replied. "That'll have to do."  
  
After the meeting Ben went back to his office, and Leslie continued to stew. Things had been off with him ever since her conversation about "going for it" with Ann. Had she started putting out some sort of "needy-lady" vibe that was pushing him away, or something? Ugh. She couldn't figure it out. So instead she did her best to put her whole focus on her to-do list for the day. It was long—thank god.  
  
At 5:30 on the dot, Ben turned back up at her office. Everyone else had cleared out for the night, and they had the department to themselves. Leslie resisted the urge to get chatty and jumped right into business instead. Ben had conscientiously put together a list of financial talking points along with more detailed summaries of the facts behind the talking points. He'd been very thorough, and Leslie found herself smiling at all the little organizational touches that made his list so clear and easy to use. She'd be able to memorize this in no time.  
  
After about twenty minutes reviewing Ben's lists, Ben frowned and fidgeted. "Leslie—" he said, "I know it really upsets you that I won't do these interviews with you. And I'm sorry. But, uh, it's more than just stage fright. I just didn't want to talk about it in front of Tom."  
  
Leslie set her list aside to give Ben her full attention. They hadn't had a good personal talk in days—it was a relief to know he was still willing to open up to her. "What is it?"  
  
"I—uh—I was worried that all the pressure of, of being in front of the cameras or speaking into a mic would trigger one of my panic attacks." He looked down at his hands and tapped the table nervously. "The last thing you need right now is for me to freak out on camera. It could ruin everything you've worked so hard for—"  
  
Impulsively Leslie reached out to grasped his hand. "I am sooo sorry that I didn't even think about your panic attacks. Things have been so good for you lately, it never even occurred to me that you might be worried about that." She couldn't believe she'd been so insensitive. She knew he hadn't fully recovered from his panic disorder yet. She never should have pushed him.  
  
"It's okay," said Ben, finally smiling a little. "I've only had one attack over the past month. It's easy to forget."  
  
"No," Leslie shook her head, "It's not okay. I should have remembered. That's what friends do. They remember each other's problems and help out."  
  
"Really—don't worry about it. I'm not offended." Ben turned his hand palm up and squeezed her hand back.  
  
The feeling of her hand in his sent a pleasant sensation of warmth creeping through her body. _Keep it together, Leslie. Now's not the time._ "So, uh, do you think things are getting better, over all, with your panic disorder? Do you think you're getting close to a full recovery?"  
  
"It's not as simple as that," replied Ben. "There's still a few times a week when I feel the panic rising and have to talk myself down before it turns into a full-blown attack. I think I might get to the point where I almost never have attacks, but I'm not sure if that underlying tendency will ever completely go away."  
  
Leslie rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. "I'm glad things are improving, though. And I agree—you shouldn't have to do things that might interfere with that." She took a deep breath. Time to be brave. "I know you say not to worry, but I feel like I must have been stressing you out. This past week things have seemed weird between us. Like you've been getting distant from me. And I feel like it's my fault, and I'm really sorry for that."  
  
"No, no, no," he squeezed her hand again. "It's nothing you did. I promise. I've been so busy working on all these details for the festival that I let myself get preoccupied. I guess we've both just been stressed out. But we're still friends. I promise."  
  
Leslie smiled. "Okay. So no high pressure press events for you. But are you up for another half hour of helping me memorize these talking points?"  
  
"Absolutely," he said. "And afterward maybe we can grab a bite at J.J.'s."  
  
The warmth rose a little higher in Leslie's chest. "That's sounds just right."  
  
Reluctantly she let go of his hand, and they got back to their work.  
  
***  
  
It didn't matter to Ben that Leslie had accepted his reason for not wanting to do media appearances. It didn't matter that their evening had been a pleasant return to their normal camaraderie. All that Ben could think about was that he'd lied to her. Again.  
  
He wasn't afraid of having a panic attack on the air. But, as a witness under federal protection, he also couldn't exactly have his face popping up on TV. Even local cable access.   
  
He hated lying to Leslie. For more than four months now he'd lied to her again, and again, and again.  
  
There were days when the temptation to tell her the truth almost overwhelmed him. But what had she done to deserve that burden? He knew he could trust her. His faith in her never wavered on that point. But who was he, to her? Why would she want to carry the burden of his secrets?  
  
Dropping all those hints about Everson had been a mistake. He saw that now.  
  
Still, the lies rankled on him.  
  
He wanted to do something for her. Something to help make up for all the lies, even if it was just in a small way.  
  
He had to do _something_.  
  
***  
  
Two nights later, Leslie stood in the Snakehole Lounge surrounded by her friends. She raised her glass. "We did it! Harvest Festival, here we come!"  
  
Everyone cheered before downing their drinks and splintering into four or five different conversations. She felt elated and relieved. The interviews had all gone far better than she ever could have hoped. And—just as Ben had predicted—all the finance and budget questions were softballs that her prepared talking points were more than enough to cover.  
  
Ben, standing next to her, caught her eye. He smiled and leaned in. "I told you you could do it. Good work, Leslie."  
  
"Good work to you, too. I couldn't have done it without you." She held his gaze and gave him her best smile. The only thing that could make her feel better than she already did tonight would be if she finally made progress with Ben. Whenever he smiled at her like that—like he was proud of her, and genuinely admired her—it made her heart race in an utterly delicious way. If his smile alone could do that to her, she couldn’t help but imagine how nice actually _touching_ him would be. Serious touching—not the "just friends" touching they'd been limited to so far.  
  
She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself. She was surrounded by her friends. She didn't want all of them to witness her asking Ben out. What was she thinking?  
  
No—it would have to wait just a little bit longer.  
  
***  
  
By Wednesday of the week following Leslie's triumphant assault on the local media, Ben's surprise was ready. He'd scrambled hard to get it ready so fast, and somehow managed to pull favors from people who'd only met him in passing a few times during the festival planning process. But, somehow, every time he mentioned that he was arranging it as a surprise for Leslie Knope everyone seemed ready and eager to help out.  
  
He shouldn't have been surprised.  
  
Ben planned a late-afternoon meeting that day with the shop that was making all the staff shirts and caps for the Harvest Festival, and insisted on driving. After he and Leslie wrapped up the meeting, it was time for his surprise.  
  
After just a minute on the road, Leslie said, "Hey, this isn't the way back to City Hall."  
  
"Nope." Ben grinned. "I've, uh, got something to show you."  
  
She raised her eyebrows and stared at him with an open-mouthed smile. "A surprise?"  
  
"Yep. A surprise."  
  
"Oh my god—what is it? Is it that new bakery on 4th? Because I actually went there last night."  
  
He shook his head, delighted. She'd never guess. "Not even close."  
  
"Is there a parade I didn't know about?"  
  
"I don't think it would be possible to have a parade in this town without you knowing it. And no. It's not."  
  
"Give me a hint!"  
  
He laughed at her impatience. "You, know, the whole point of a surprise to be—well—surprising?"  
  
"Come on." She banged her fists against her thighs and bounced in her seat. "Just one hint?"  
  
"Fine. It's something for the Harvest Festival." He turned the car toward their final destination.  
  
"Is it a blimp? I've always wanted to hire a blimp, but I didn't think we could afford it."  
  
"Not a blimp." They were getting close enough to the vacant storefront that they'd rented for temporary Harvest Festival supply storage. She'd see his surprise soon enough.  
  
"A hot air balloon? A pair of trained eagles? A sky-writer?" She continued to guess.  
  
"Why do assume it's something that flies?" The workings of Leslie's mind continued to boggle him.  
  
"I don't know. I guess the sky looks extra pretty today."  
  
When Ben parked and stepped out of the car, he realized that she was right. The sky did look extra pretty.  
  
Once they were inside the storage space, Ben led Leslie toward the cargo dock at the back, past the piles of boxes and mounds of disassembled pavilions and rows of folding chairs. There, not far from the cargo entrance, stood his surprise.  
  
Leslie stopped short, looking puzzled. "A dunking booth? I didn't think we'd scheduled a dunking booth."  
  
"We didn't," said Ben walking up to the booth. "But I did. And it's not just any dunking booth." He pulled off the tarp he'd taped to the large metal tub at the base of the booth, revealing the newly applied decal: "Dunking for Diabetes, featuring Detlef Schrempf."  
  
Leslie's jaw dropped. "What? I don't—how—Ben?"  
  
She looked at him for explanation.  
  
He grinned. I wasn't often a person could leave Leslie Knope dumbfounded. "Well, I felt bad for disappointing you last week when I wouldn't do the media appearances with you. And I know how much you love doing things that will benefit the community as a whole. Plus Tom once told me about your annual telethon and how Detlef Schrempf came to Pawnee to donate, and I just had this idea."  
  
"You actually got Detlef Schrempf to come and sit in a dunking booth?" she said, awe in her voice.  
  
Ben shrugged. "It'll be more like a wading pool, for him, as tall as he is. And it's just for two days—four hours each day. But he'll also sit for autographs for a few hours each of those days. All the proceeds from when he's here will go directly to the Pawnee Cares Foundation for Diabetes Research. And the rest of the week the members of the Pawnee Central High varsity sports teams will be volunteering to sit in the booth in shifts, and the proceeds from those days will be split fifty-fifty between Pawnee Cares and Pawnee Central High athletics. I already sent a press release out to the local media outlets. I'm sure this will raise public interest in the festival even higher."  
  
Leslie shook her head. "I can't believe you pulled this whole thing together in less than a week. It's amazing."  
  
The look of respect and admiration in her eyes felt better than just about anything he'd ever experienced. That was, until she stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around him for a hug.  
  
He held her against his body, his heart pounding in his chest. It was like something out of one of his dreams.  
  
She squeezed him a little tighter. "It's wonderful. The best surprise I've had in forever. I love it."  
  
Her arms still locked around his rib cage, she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes with a glowing smile on her face.  
  
His whole body felt warm. She'd never looked more beautiful. When had he started thinking of her as beautiful?  
  
Her eyes flicked down to his lips, lingering there for a moment before darting back up to his gaze.  
  
He knew what that signal meant. He'd seen it before.  
  
The last traces of his resolve crumbled under her touch. He couldn't think. All he could do was feel her body in his arms. All he could see was her face drawing closer to his.  
  
His eyes closed as their lips met.  
  
It was even better than he'd imagined it would be.  
  
Her hands spoke their silent approval as they clutched at his sides and his back. He was intoxicated by the way she so eagerly parted her lips, inviting him in. Electricity surged through his body as he tasted her fruity-sweet lip gloss and felt the soft silkiness of her hair with his fingers.  
  
For just a moment he let himself get lost in her kiss.  
  
And then his mind kicked back in.  
  
 _It's just another lie. She's not really kissing me—she's kissing someone I made up.  
  
I can't do this._  
  
He pulled back abruptly, and gasped for air. He let his hands trail down her arms as he stepped away from her, before finally dropping them completely.  
  
She looked stunned and hurt.  
  
Everything felt cold.  
  
"I'm—I'm sorry," he stammered. "I shouldn't have done that."  
  
"Why not?" Her question sounded like a plea. "I thought you liked me?"  
  
"I do like you," he replied immediately, desperation infusing his voice.  
  
"And I like you," she said, stepping toward him. "So what's going on?"  
  
"I—I—" How could he explain this? What was he supposed to say? He wanted to shout out the truth to her right then and there. But what would come of it? Did he expect her wait for him until after the trial? Did he expect her to take on the danger of being involved with him? All after a single kiss?  
  
No. It wasn't fair to do that to her.  
  
"Are you—are you married?" she asked, her whole face scrunched up in frustration and pain.  
  
"No! God no."  
  
"Are you dying of some horrible disease? Or do you have herpes that's flaring up? Do you have a secret love child somewhere?" She waived her arms at her sides as she spoke.  
  
"No, no, no. No to all of those things," he said.  
  
"So what's the problem?"She looked liked she wanted to start shaking him, and he couldn't blame her.  
  
There had to be something. Some reason he could give that would make sense to her . . .  
  
"I'm leaving in seven weeks," he blurted out.  
  
Her expression immediately softened from angry frustration to something a little more morose. "Yes. I know this. I—I guess I've been trying to forget about that part, lately."  
  
Why did he have to end up upsetting her every time they tried to have a serious conversation? He sighed. "I wish I could forget that part. But I can't. It's coming. Fast."  
  
Leslie took a few slow breaths and appeared to be trying to compose herself. "Okay. Well. If we both like each other—which we apparently do—" She looked to him for confirmation, and he nodded. She continued, "then I don't see why we can't at least give this thing a try. I mean, I've dated guys who live in Indianapolis before, and it's not ideal, but it's manageable."  
  
Ben's chest ached. Why hadn't he had the guts to do this two months ago, when it might have actually worked? "I'm not . . . going back to Indianapolis."  
  
Leslie's eyes went wide. "But—I thought you guys were looking for work there."  
  
And it all came back to more lies. Damn it. "None of our leads in Indy panned out," he said, hating himself as he added to the web of deception. "We still have a few leads out there, but last week we got an offer—a really good offer—from a place a lot further away. I don’t really want to leave, but this offer is an amazing offer. We'll be doing good work. Important work. Work that will help make people's lives better. So after mulling it over for a few days, we just accepted the job. We signed the contract a couple of days ago."  
  
Leslie looked pale. "How much farther away? Where are going?"  
  
God, this sucked. "Atlanta," he said softly, the word tasting bitter on his tongue.  
  
She blinked rapidly, liked she'd just been poked in the eye. "Atlanta, Indiana?" she asked with a desperate hope in her voice. "That's just three and a half hours away, isn't it?"  
  
"Atlanta, Georgia."  
  
She looked away from him, her eyes fixing on that stupid dunking booth that he'd been so proud of just a few minutes ago. Her shoulders slumped, and all the energy seemed to be draining from her body. "Oh. Wow."  
  
He wanted to pull her back into his arms and hold her close until that look on her face disappeared, but at this point it would only make things worse.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said. "I wish—"  
  
He wished so many things. But how could he put them into words that she'd understand? "You see why I don't think we should get involved, don't you?" he asked. "I—I mean, we've only got seven weeks, and the next three of those seven are going to be crazy busy with Harvest Festival stuff. We'd—we'd barely have enough time to get things started. And then I'll be gone. I couldn't ask you to get involved in a long distance relationship after that. I mean, long distance is hard enough even if you have a really solid foundation before you're apart. Seven weeks just isn't enough to know—is it?"  
  
"You're right," she said in a low voice, still staring at the dunking booth. "Of course you're right. Seven weeks will fly by. It's not enough time for anything, really."  
  
"I hate this," he said. "I really do. But I'm just trying to be mature and realistic. And—and your friendship is important to me. I don't want to lose that. I'd really like to keep in touch after I leave. But if we start something here, and then cut it off before it really gets going, I think it'll make it really hard to stay friends. There will be so many unresolved feelings. And I don't want you feeling any sense of obligation. You shouldn't. You deserve better than that. You deserve someone who can really be there for you. Every day. Not just on the phone or email. You deserve better."  
  
Shit. This hurt worse than his last few breakups, and they'd never even started dating.  
  
He never should have kissed her.  
  
"You deserve better, too," she said. "You're a really great guy, and I hope you can find someone who sees that."  
  
Ben really, really hated his life right now. He sat on the edge of a nearby table and gripped it with both hands. "I'm really sorry about this. When I brought you here I just wanted to do something nice for you. I wanted to make you happy. So much for that."  
  
"No," she turned to look at him again. "This does make me happy. The dunking booth is great. It's more than great. It's so good I'm surprised I didn't think of it myself." She managed a smile with that one, and Ben found himself smiling again, too.  
  
"We can—still be friends, can't we?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound too pathetic.  
  
"Of course we can," she replied, her smile holding strong. "Like you said—staying friends is the mature, realistic thing to do. This doesn't have to change anything. I mean, I'm disappointed things couldn't work out differently. But that's life, right?" She shrugged. "Things don't always work out the way we want, and we just have to make the best of it."  
  
"Yeah," he said, forcing his smile to stay on his face. "Yeah, we do."  
  
"Okay, then," she said. "Thank you—very much—for the dunking booth. It's great. And I can't wait to read that press release. I wonder if they'll be calling me for comment?"  
  
"I bet they will."  
  
"That'd be great. Just great. So I'd better get back to the office to see if anyone's called. And to wrap up a few more pieces of work before I head home."  
  
She seemed to be slipping back into work-mode as a defense mechanism, and Ben couldn't blame her. That conversation had been excruciating. "Okay. I'll take you back."  
  
On the ride back she babbled non-stop about the to-do list for the rest of the week, and thanked him four more times for setting up the dunking booth. Ben let her talk. If that's what made her feel better, he'd letter her babble.  
  
They parted ways in the hall outside the Parks Department.  
  
On his way back to his office he saw Andy and April walking hand in hand through the courtyard.   
  
He'd never envied Andy Dwyer. Never—until now.  
  
***  
  
Leslie held it together long enough to send a few emails and finish up some paperwork, but by five forty-five she just couldn't keep going. She picked up her phone and dialed Ann.  
  
"Hi," she said, when Ann answered. "Can I come over?" Her voice cracked a little.  
  
"Leslie? What's wrong?" said Ann.  
  
Leslie tried to keep her emotions in check when she spoke, but it wasn't easy. "You were right. I waited too long to tell Ben how I felt about him. And now it's too late."  
  
"Oh, Leslie. I'll put on a pot of coffee. And do you want some pancakes?"  
  
Leslie let out a laugh that was half-sob. "Pancakes would be perfect."  
  
"I'll see you in a few minutes."  
  
Leslie was actually smiling again when she hung up. Ann was the most perfect and beautiful friend and nurse. She'd help make everything okay. Somehow.  
  
  
TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter originally published on LiveJournal in July 2012

"I dropped lots of hints last night, and he still didn't tell me about Georgia." Ann shook her head. "I'm starting to think that he's just playing games with me. If he cared about me at all, he'd tell me, right?"  
  
Leslie sighed and sipped her coffee. She'd thought enjoying a break in the courtyard with Ann would be relaxing. Apparently not.  
  
This was the fifteenth or sixteenth iteration of the same conversation over the past five days. Ever since she'd dropped the "Georgia" bomb on Ann—assuming that Chris would've already told her—Ann had been in panic mode. The only plus to this new phase of Ann's life was that worrying about her friend helped distract Leslie from the raw ache in her own chest that had been festering there ever since Ben kissed her and then yanked the rug right out from under her all in the span of ten minutes.  
  
Leslie couldn't hate him for what had happened. He hadn't taken her to that storage facility to make out—he'd just been doing that _awesome friend_ thing that he did so well. And in a way she did feel a little better about her infatuation for him knowing that he felt the same way about her.  
  
But knowing that he _did_ feel that way about her (and knowing what a truly spectacular kisser he was) combined with the knowledge that they'd never be more than friends had been a blow. The only chance they had now would be if, by some miracle, Ben found work back in Indiana when the Atlanta job ended. And if they managed to keep in touch in the meantime. And if they were both still single. Ugh. If it wasn't for the massive workload of the Harvest Festival and trying to cheer up Ann, she'd be more than a little depressed right now.  
  
Things with Ben had been a little tense since the _event_. But they were both trying to stay friendly and positive. Easier said than done.  
  
Leslie rubbed her forehead, trying to focus back on Ann. "Well, maybe it's time to confront him. Just get it out in the open and see what he has to say for himself."  
  
Ann frowned, but nodded. "You're right. I know you're right. I'm just scared that it'll be the end of things for us."  
  
"Well, you don't want to be with a guy who doesn't respect you enough to tell you the truth, do you?" asked Leslie, letting some of her frustration leak into her tone.  
  
"I guess not. I mean, that's why I broke up with Andy, right?" Ann gripped her coffee so tight that it looked like she'd pop the lid right off.  
  
"Exactly," said Leslie, hoping Ann would finally follow through this time. She wasn't sure how many more times she could sit through this conversation.  
  
"Okay," said Ann, nodding. "I'll do it. I'll confront him."  
  
That was when Chris and Ben stepped out into the courtyard.  
  
"But not right now," said Ann hastily.  
  
Leslie sighed again as Chris greeted Ann with a kiss on the cheek and Ben said hello with a flutter of his fingers and a wistful smile. That ache in her chest flared right back up.  
  
After exchanging their pleasantries, Chris pointed at Leslie. "We are here to deliver some good news."  
  
"Really?" Leslie raised her eyebrows hopefully. She could use any good news she could get, right now.  
  
Ben nodded. "Yep. The folks up in the state assembly have taken notice of your exemplary work in bringing back the historic Pawnee Harvest Festival. They're extending an invitation to you and Ron Swanson to attend their session Friday morning to receive a commendation for your efforts."  
  
Leslie's jaw dropped. "No way."   
  
"Yes way, Leslie Knope!" said Chris, cheerily. "And you've certainly earned it."  
  
Leslie's face settled into a warm smile. It might not be quite as good as making it out with the adorable man she liked, but getting a commendation from the state assembly would last a hell of a lot longer.  
  
***  
  
On Tuesday evening, Chris joined Ann at her house for a delightful dinner. She'd concocted the most delicious watercress and chick pea salad. But she seemed strangely tense throughout the meal. He'd begun to think about offering her an acupressure session to help ease her stress when she spoke up.  
  
"Chris—there's something important that we need to talk about." Her eyes were hard, and her voice carried an uncharacteristic note of steel.  
  
"Of course," he replied. "You seem upset. What's wrong?"  
  
"What's wrong is your job search," replied Ann.  
  
Chris squeezed his lips together. He'd grown so tired of lying about his nonexistent job search that he'd done his best to evade her questions over the past few weeks. "I still don't have any news. I wish I could—"  
  
"What about Atlanta?" she asked, the pain evident on her face.  
  
Oh dear.  
  
"Atlanta?" he echoed.  
  
Ann nodded. "Ben told Leslie all about it last week." She shook her head. "Why have you been lying to me?"  
  
Ben told Leslie about Atlanta? Exactly _what_ about Atlanta? How in the world did Ben expect him to get the details straight if he didn't share?  
  
Chris's hands curled into loose fists on the table top. "I see."  
  
Ann's eyebrows shot up. "You see? That's all you have to say? You didn't want to tell me about the new job because you knew I'd break up with you, didn't you? You're just using me."  
  
"I'm . . ." Chris honestly felt at a loss as to what to say. Ben had left him in a very precarious position. His shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry."  
  
She shook her head. "I'm sorry? _I'm sorry_? That's all you have to say for yourself?"  
  
"What more is there to say?" There was no way for him to bounce back from this without compromising their cover.  
  
"I'm sorry, too," said Ann tightly. "I think you should leave, now."  
  
Chris nodded silently and made his exit.  
  
The drive back to the condo felt very long, indeed. When he stepped inside he found Ben watching one of his space-adventure programs on the television. If Chris hadn't practiced his deep breathing exercises all the way home, he'd be very tempted to yell.  
  
Instead, he sat down on the sofa next to Ben and calmly asked, "So, what exactly did you tell Leslie about Atlanta, last week?"  
  
Ben turned to look at him with wide eyes and muted his show. "Oh boy. Uh . . . I should've known Leslie would mention that Ann."  
  
Chris nodded slowly. "They do tend share most personal information with each other."  
  
"I'm sorry. I—I—I just told her we'd had a job offer from a company in Atlanta, and that we'd decided to take it. I didn't say anything about . . . you know." Ben flailed his hands in front of him.  
  
Chris sighed. Ben had never gotten the knack of a convincing lie. "Why Atlanta? Why tell her where we were really going?"  
  
"It just slipped out. I was flustered and confused because," Ben took a deep breath, "because I kissed her."  
  
This was unexpected. "You kissed her?"  
  
"But I immediately told her that we couldn't be together because I was moving to Atlanta." Ben shook his head. "I knew I should have thought of some other excuse, but it was already out of my mouth."  
  
Chris closed his eyes and took another deep breath. He should have seen this coming. Ben had been in denial about his feelings for Leslie for far too long. They were bound to erupt eventually. And people with erupting emotions don't think clearly. Certainly not clearly enough to come up with lies that weren't so close to the truth.  
  
"Well," he said at last, opening his eyes again. "Ann Perkins now thinks very poorly of me. And Leslie will likely also think poorly of me once Ann speaks with her. However, the relationship had to end eventually, anyway. I'd only hoped to wait until after the festival to make the break. But it is what it is. I'll make the best of it."  
  
"I'm sorry," Ben said again.  
  
Chris nodded. "I accept your apology, however, I feel like I need to point out that withholding this information from me violated our agreement to start sharing everything. How can we really be partners in this if you continue to hold out on me?" Ben had never been good at sharing his thoughts and feelings, but Chris had honestly believed that things had changed after their heart to heart while sparring. Clearly, old habits were hard to break.  
  
"Yes. It did." Ben sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I was embarrassed, and I screwed up. It won't happen again. I promise."  
  
"I trust you," replied Chris. He had to. If he didn't trust Ben, then there would be nothing left for him to believe in.  
  
***  
  
"It'll be fine, Ron," said Leslie—again—as she gripped the steering while a little harder. "The hotel restaurant will have a perfectly fine steak. And alcohol. Lots of alcohol."   
  
"Thank god," muttered Ann from the passenger seat just as Ron spoke up from the back. "No steak on earth is _perfectly fine_ in comparison to Mulligan's. Nothing even comes close."  
  
"We'll make it through this," replied Leslie. "Together."  
  
Ron continued to moan and grumble in the back seat, and Leslie spoke quietly to Ann. "I'm sorry. This might not have been a great idea, after all." She'd really thought that getting Ann away from Pawnee—and far away from Chris—for the night would be just the thing to cheer her up. Ron's unfortunate meltdown over the closure of his favorite restaurant had put a major crimp in her plans.  
  
"The alcohol can still make things better," replied Ann. "Especially since it's from the hotel bar so we won't even have to worry about getting too drunk, because we can just stagger up to our room."  
  
Leslie made a mental note to stick a post-it with their room number in her pocket, just in case.  
  
***  
  
Ben felt a little wary when Tom first invited him to a "fragrance launch party." He hadn't done much socializing with the folks from Parks and Rec without Leslie being present. But he had to stop leaning on her as a crutch. He'd be leaving soon. He couldn't keep turning to her every time he needed someone to hang out with. His panic disorder was mostly under control and all of the people from Parks were friendly with him—this would be a good chance to break out of his shell a little.  
  
He was a grown man, for god's sake. One night at a bar without Leslie wouldn't be the end of the world.  
  
So he went. And he tried one of Tom's favorite melon-tinis. And he smelled Tom's fragrance (he even managed not to gag). He hung out with Andy and drank beers with Donna and cheered up Tom when Dennis Feinstein agreed that Tommy Fresh smelled hideous. And he found himself having a good time.  
  
He could do this. He'd done this for years before panic disorders and Leslie Knope happened, and he could do it again.  
  
Yet, he couldn't stop himself from glancing over at the bar every few minutes, looking for a brilliant blonde head of hair that he knew perfectly well was spending the night in Indianapolis.  
  
Yes, he could do this. And he would do this, wherever life after the trial took him. But if it didn't bring him back to Pawnee—if he never saw Leslie again—it was going to hurt like hell.  
  
***  
  
The steaks at the hotel restaurant were actually pretty good and the bar served truly excellent cookies and cream martinis. After downing a few of those and leaving Ron to finish his "turf and turf" in peace, Leslie and Ann managed to have a pretty good girl to girl chat at the bar.  
  
Ann shook her head, sipping on her most recent drink. "I really felt like I could fall in love with him, but he was always holding something back, you know?" she said.  
  
Leslie nodded. "There was always something fishy about him. All those vegetables. And the meditation."  
  
"Ugh." Ann winced. "I will _not_ miss the meditation."  
  
"Good."  
  
By their next drink, Ann started moaning. "Why can't I just fall for someone nice and sweet and honest? Like with you and Dave. Dave was great."  
  
"Yeah." Leslie blinked a few times, trying to focus her brain. She hadn't even thought about Dave in months. "I don't think I loved him. I could have, if he didn't leave. But he did leave."  
  
"It sucks."  
  
"Yeah. Leaving really sucks." Leslie suddenly felt moisture rising in her eyes, and she sniffled to stop her nose from running. Leaving _really_ sucked. "I don't want him to go."  
  
"Dave? But he's already gone." Ann cocked her head and squinted her eyes.  
  
"Ben," said Leslie in a tone verging on a whimper. "I don't want Ben to leave."  
  
"Ohhhhh . . ." Ann sat up a little straighter.  
  
"He's so cute and so nice and—and—and he believes in me. He believes in me more than anyone." She turned to Ann and took her hand. "Except you, of course, you sweet, beautiful firefly. But Ben's the only guy who ever believed in me like this since my dad. Even when I hated him he still believed in me. I really really like him and I don't want him to leave."  
  
Ann squeezed her hand back and shook her head. "Everything sucks. Let's drink more."  
  
Ann always knew just what to say, so that was exactly what they did.   
  
They made it back to their room just fine (although Leslie did have to consult her note twice on the way).   
  
The next morning, Leslie discovered that hangover headaches detracted from the natural high of receiving an official commendation from the state assembly in the statehouse. So did Ron's attempted filibuster to force the re-opening of Mulligan's.   
  
In fact, the magnitude of receiving the commendation didn't really sink in until that afternoon, back in her office. She finished hammering a nail into her wall, hung up the plaque and stepped back. God it looked good up there.  
  
She felt a warm tingly feeling all through her body. Smiling, she took a deep breath and lifted her shoulders a little higher. This was going to work. The festival would succeed. Her department would be saved. Ben might be leaving, but life would go on as good as it ever was.  
  
"That looks great. You picked the perfect spot."  
  
Speak of the devil. Leslie continued to smile as she spun on her heels to face Ben. "Thanks. Now all I need is a panoramic photograph of the Festival fair grounds to hang next to it."  
  
He smiled, nodding wistfully. "I think that would be perfect." He stepped closer and extended a hand. "Well, congratulations."  
  
Leslie felt warmth rising in her face at the memory of her blubbering to Ann last night. She couldn't bring herself to take his hand—she might be tempted to never let go.  
  
But there it was. Hanging in the air in front of her. She had to do _something_. In a panic move she raised her own hand and hit him with a clumsy side swipe of a high five.  
  
Ben raised his eyebrows. "Okay."  
  
Leslie could hardly believe she'd just done that. She fumbled for words. "Hey—yeah—I—uh—was just thinking that it would be fun—for us—to have a thing."  
  
Now his eyes narrowed. "A thing?"  
  
"A celebratory thing." Leslie flung her hands out at her sides as she wove the words to explain her latest bit of madness. "A thing we can do when something goes well with the festival. To celebrate. Just the two of us. Like an inside joke."  
  
Ben nodded with a quirky half smile on his face. "Okay. Yeah. That might be fun. So you want to start with the side-five?" He held his hand out again.  
  
Wow. He was actually buying this? "Yep. Side-five." She repeated her previous action. "Then maybe a back hand," she said, knocking the back of her hand against his."  
  
"Should we throw in a fist bump next?" He smiled wider. He was actually getting into it.  
  
Leslie shook her head. "No fist bumps. They seem too unsophisticated to me."  
  
They practiced a few more moves, mostly repeated front and back hand slaps, and then threw in some guns at the end. "Because your ideas are always on target," Ben said with a laugh.  
  
"And your financial management always hits the bulls eye," she replied, shaking her head. "And that doesn't even make sense."  
  
Ben laughed again. "Don't worry about it. It's great. Okay—one more time."  
  
 _Holy crap. We actually have a celebratory handshakey-thing_ , thought Leslie as they ran through it a few more times, giggling at each other's elaborations. Who on earth beside Ben would do this with her? Ann, maybe, but she wouldn't get so into it. Why did he always have to be so freaking cute right when she was trying to let go and move on?  
  
They finished laughing over their new "thing," and moved on to the business at hand. The work would never stop until the last of the festival vendors packed up and went home. But even while talking about work, Leslie couldn't help but notice the tilt of his smile and the brightness in his eyes.  
  
When their meeting ended and Ben headed back to his own office, Leslie leaned back in her chair with a sigh. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.  
  
Sometimes life just wasn't fair, was it?  
  
***  
  
Ben checked his watch. The Harvest Festival officially opened its gates to the public in exactly seventeen hours and thirty-four minutes. So far, everything was running like clockwork.  
  
Well, except for that empty threat about a curse from the Wamapoke tribal leader. But at this point, what could he really do to stop things? Ben wasn't worried. Not one bit.  
  
He raised his head to watch Leslie leading Joan Callamezzo around the fairground for an exclusive preview. Her blonde hair shimmered in the bright sun, and she walked with her chin held high. She deserved to feel proud. The festival was going to be amazing. And she was the one responsible for it all.  
  
He allowed his eyes to linger on her as she led Joan toward the pen of that pony everyone seemed to love so much. He really shouldn't have been surprised when Joan freaked out about it, just like every other Pawneean had. Leslie had clearly earned the smile of triumph on her face, but Ben still wasn't sure why. Just another reminder that no matter how many friends he had here, he was still an outsider.   
  
_Just passing through. Don't mind me. Say good-bye to the pony when I leave._ He sighed and looked down at his feet. He couldn't let himself think like this, today. Not when Leslie needed him.  
  
A few minutes later, Joan wrapped up the interview. Once the camera had been lowered and it was safe to join them, Ben headed Leslie's way. He got close just in time to hear Joan actually complimenting Leslie on her achievement, and from what he'd heard about Joan that was a pretty big deal.  
  
When Joan walked off to talk to her cameraman, Ben grinned. "It looked like that went pretty well."  
  
Leslie beamed and literally bounced a few times. "No. It went amazingly well. We're really gonna pull this off!"  
  
Ben raised his hand. "Awesome. Take that, curse!"  
  
"Take that, curse," Leslie replied, slapping his palm and moving into their celebratory routine.  
  
Ben should have known not to celebrate quite yet. Bad luck seemed to follow him wherever he went.  
  
Without warning, Joan popped back up at their side. "What's this I hear about a curse?"  
  
While they were still fumbling for a response, Tom came jogging up with the news that Li'l Sebastian had escaped and no one could find him.   
  
With a maniacal smile on her face, Joan called her cameraman back over to start filming a brand new segment.  
  
 _Shit._  
  
He and Leslie spent the rest of the afternoon scrambling to contain the bad news—spinning for the press, trying to rearrange some of the booth locations to help appease Ken Hotate and sending out search parties for Li'l Sebastian.  
  
Things went from bad to worse when Ken appeared on channel 4 news with Perd Hapley, for official "Curse Watch" coverage, which suddenly seemed to dominate all the local television and radio stations.   
  
"Okay," he said, trying to calm Leslie down, "we'll have a press conference tonight, in time for the ten o'clock news. I know you can handle the local press corps. And in the meantime we'll keep Ron and the gang on the search for the pony. It'll be fine."  
  
"He's a miniature horse," she retorted automatically. "And no. It won't be fine. Everything will fall apart and my department will lose its funding and Paul will fire me and—"  
  
"No." Ben gripped her shoulders lightly and looked into her eyes. "That won't happen. I promise. We'll get through this." And he meant it. After all the sacrifices and losses he'd experienced over the past two years, having this festival fail would be unacceptable. This felt like the most important thing in the world right now. He couldn't let Leslie's dream end like this.  
  
Leslie nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay."  
  
They got to work arranging the press conference.  
  
Just after dusk the press corps had gathered, the stage was set, and he and Leslie had reviewed the talking points several times. Yet Ben still had a growing sense of unease in his chest. Li'l Sebastian still hadn't been found and the members of the press were assaulting every passing festival staff member with increasingly ridiculous questions. What if things really did fall apart?  
  
His mind drifted back to Ice Town and his catastrophic final press conference as mayor. Would this be that moment for Leslie? Had he failed her?  
  
Leslie got the press conference off to a confident start, but right when she got to her killer line, "You know as well as I do that there's no such thing as curses," the power died, plunging the whole fairground into darkness.  
  
This couldn't be happening. Not tonight. Not to her. The whole of the carnival seemed to be spinning and dancing around him, with the milling press corps suddenly taking on the appearance of snapping, rabid wolves. Ben's breath started to come in short, swift gasps.  
  
 _Not now. Shit, shit, shit._  
  
He stumbled back against the nearest fence gasping for air.  
  
Leslie walked up to him, shaking her head. "I cannot catch a break today. Everything's—" She stopped, her mouth hanging slightly open, her eyes wide. "Ben? Are you okay?"  
  
He shook his head and clutched at the growing pain in his chest. "Be okay," he wheezed. "Just go." He gasped a few more times.  
  
Leslie stepped closer to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Go ahead and sit down. Focus on your breathing. It'll be okay."  
  
Nothing would be okay. Nothing ever was. Maybe there really was a curse, and it had been following him since he decided to go to the FBI. That's when his whole life had gone to hell.  
  
"Come on," she said. "Sit down."  
  
The pain in his chest felt worse than ever, but he nodded and managed to slide down the fence to sit leaning against it. He closed his eyes and hunched over his knees, waiting for the worst to pass.  
  
That's when one small hand started gently rubbing his back, and another slid over one of his hands and threaded its fingers through his, grasping him firmly. What was she doing? She had work to do. A festival to save. Bad luck Ben was the last thing she needed to be wasting her time on.  
  
"Just breathe," she said. "As slow and deep as you can. I'll be right here."  
  
Ben mustered the strength to shake his head. "Go. Work. Don't need me."  
  
"Yes. I do. And I'm staying right here until you're feeling better." Her hand continued to rub across his upper back.  
  
 _She needed him_. That one thought alone forced some of the pain in his chest to recede. Maybe it was selfish, but he couldn't fight this right now. Instead, he leaned against her, resting his head on her shoulder—letting her shockingly strong little frame hold him steady. He focused on his breathing, and on the comforting warmth of her hand in his, and the feeling of her other hand rubbing soothingly across his shoulders. He'd give anything to be able to hang on to that feeling—to make it last.   
  
She stayed with him, just as she'd promised, until the panic had subsided and his rational brain stepped up to take command again.  
  
As his breathing steadied and the dizziness vanished, he knew that no matter how much he wished he could lean on her all night, he had to let go. There was still a festival to save.  
  
He'd be damned if he was going to let her fail.  
  
Ben heaved a few deep breaths before raising his head from Leslie's shoulder. The pain in his chest had diminished into a small, dull ache. "I'm sorry. The timing of these things is the worst. You didn't have to—"  
  
"Yes," she said, "I did."  
  
The warm tingles rising in his body started giving the dull ache a run for its money. "Thanks. Really."  
  
"You're welcome." She loosed her grip on his hand, and shifted to stand. "Can you make it home all right, or do you need a ride?"  
  
He shook his head, rising to his feet beside her. "No. There's too much work to do. No way am I leaving."  
  
"No, no, no. You need to go lie down."  
  
He held up a hand. "Hey—I can do this. Trust me."  
  
Their eyes locked for a moment. She nodded. "Okay."  
  
He nodded back. "What do we do first?"  
  
"I'll go see what's going on with the power and do what it takes to solve the problem," she said. "It sounds like some people got stuck up on the Ferris wheel. Go see if there's a way to get them down and then check in on the search for Li'l Sebastian. Okay?"  
  
"Got it." He gave her one more firm nod and headed off in the direction of the Ferris wheel. He wouldn't let her down again, tonight. Not if a million stampeding ponies got in his way.  
  
Fortunately, his two tasks turned out to be one and the same. Most of the Parks department was stuck on the Ferris wheel and while Ben was talking to the carnie in charge of the ride they started shouting down to him that they'd spotted Li'l Sebastian in the corn maze.  
  
A few of the carnies milling around had flashlights. And Ben had a few twenties in his wallet. "Hey, you two," he called out to the nearest flashlight-bearing carnies. "Want to earn forty bucks? Each?"  
  
Minutes later he and his newly recruited team of carnies plunged into the corn maze, following the shouted directions of the Parks department crew above them. After getting turned around a few times by conflicting directions, Ben called up and ordered everyone to be quiet except for Ron. Thankfully, they actually listened to him.  
  
Ben and his carnies had to trample through a few walls of the maze, but within fifteen minutes they'd followed Ron's instructions straight to the missing pony. _Miniature horse_ , Ben mentally corrected himself.  
  
Sebastian put up a bit of a fuss, tossing his head and stomping his hooves. He was clearly not fond of carnies. (Who was, really?) In the end, they got farther faster when Ben decided to let the pony lead the way. He finally stepped out of the maze, his hand firmly gripping Sebastian's mane, just after eleven.  
  
All the members of the Parks department broke out in applause.  
  
Ben handed the pony over to one of the carnies just long enough to take a bow for his appreciative audience. He couldn't stop grinning. Who would've thought finding a missing pony would give him such a feeling of accomplishment? Only in Pawnee.  
  
God, he wished he could stay.  
  
He'd just shut and locked Sebastian's pen, leaving a team of no fewer than five carnies on guard duty, when Leslie strode up with an amazed smile on her face.  
  
"You found him!"  
  
Ben nodded. "I did. With a little help from our friends with the bird's eye view, up there." He pointed at the Ferris wheel. "This little guy was smack in the middle of the corn maze."  
  
"This is perfect. I just got back from the Wamapoke Sun Casino. They're lending us their generator, free of charge, until ours is fixed. Everything is working out. We're going to be okay." Even with the power out, her smile seemed to light up the whole fairground.  
  
Ben couldn't stop grinning. So this was what real success felt like. "You're amazing," he said.  
  
"No," she retorted. "You're amazing."  
  
He felt giddy and silly. "Well, you’re the amazingest."  
  
She shrugged and laughed. "All right. I guess I am."  
  
Without even thinking, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug. She squeezed him back. He knew this was toeing the line that he wasn't supposed to cross. To hell with it. Tonight, she deserved a hug—and he was the man to give it to her.  
  
"I knew we could fix things," he said, finally pulling back from their embrace.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because I had my moments of doubt."  
  
"Really. You're Leslie Knope. You can do anything." Lord, he sounded silly. But he couldn't help it. She brought out that side of him—and he liked it.  
  
She shrugged and lowered her eyes with uncharacteristic shyness. "Except turn that Ferris wheel to get our friends down. They'll have to wait until the generator gets here. Fortunately, it's already on the way."  
  
***  
  
Not long after midnight the power went back up at the fairgrounds, and all of Leslie's friends were safely unloaded from the Ferris wheel. She couldn't stop herself from frequently glancing over at Ben, where he stood meekly shrugging off his share of the praise and credit for that night's success.  
  
Leslie was still riding the high of resolving the crap-tornado and getting things back on track for the grand opening tomorrow morning, and everything Ben said and did only made her heart race that much faster.   
  
To bounce back from his panic attack and save the day with Li'l Sebastian like that—wow. Tonight he'd become legitimately swoon-worthy. And swooning right into his arms seemed like the perfect way to end her roller-coaster of a day.  
  
The gang gathered in the staff tent, where Ron miraculously produced a stack of Dixie cups and a bottle of whiskey. He passed around shots while Leslie briefed her team.  
  
"The press conference is scheduled for seven-thirty, so I expect to see you all here at seven o'clock sharp. Got it?"  
  
Everyone nodded and murmured assent. Good. That meant they'd be there by at least seven-fifteen.  
  
Leslie raised her cup. "I'd like to thank you all for being the best most wonderful most dedicated people in the world. Without you, none of this would have been possible."  
  
Her heart warmed at the sight of the whole tent full of people smiling at her. She'd dreamed of moments like this her whole life, and tonight it was finally happening. "To the festival," she said.  
  
"To the festival," her friends echoed enthusiastically.  
  
Leslie swallowed her whiskey, savoring the burn of the strong alcohol in her throat. Today had been crazy, but tomorrow would be the best ever. "Now go home and get some sleep! See you all bright and early tomorrow."  
  
Everyone quickly and gratefully filed out of the tent. Everyone except for Ben.  
  
Her heart picked up its pace again as he walked toward her.  
  
"I think today you looked that curse in the eye and flipped it the bird," he said as he approached her.  
  
She giggled at the goofy grin on his face. "We both did."  
  
He held out his hand like for their special handshakey routine, but when she slapped his palm he grabbed her hand and held on, pulling her a little closer.  
  
Leslie's eyes locked with his and warm tingles filled her whole body.  
  
They stood like that, perfectly still, for what felt like forever.   
  
She took a deep breath and broke the silence. "I don't feel like being very mature or realistic right now."  
  
"Neither do I," he said softly.  
  
"Thank god." In one swift movement she reached up, threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him down for a kiss.  
  
Leslie had never felt more relieved to make out with someone in her life. And _holy god_ was Ben good at it.  
  
Their first few kisses were tentative—exploring—as they figured out how best to fit together. But once Ben got past that initial testing of the waters he was quick to up the intensity level to something that set Leslie's entire abdomen on fire.  
  
His mouth moved against hers as if she was the only thing in the universe that mattered—as if everything would implode into nothingness if he didn't get enough of her right that instant.  
  
He made her dizzy and sent electric sparks dancing up and down her body as his hands worked their way under her blazer and pulled her closer. Not to be outdone she burrowed her own hands up under his sweater, where she discovered that all those krav maga classes had done simply amazing things for his muscle tone—things she wanted to get a much closer look at.  
  
Fortunately, Ben seemed to feel the same way. Still playfully nipping at her jaw line and neck he backed her toward the nearest folding table and boosted her onto it. He settled between her legs as she wrapped herself around him and pulled his talented mouth back in for another deep kiss.  
  
She could do this all night.  
  
"Leslie—I have some concerns about your guard duty rotation for Little Sebast—" Ron's voice froze mid-word as Ben leaped back from her with a strangled yelp.  
  
Leslie fell gracelessly from the table and worked to steady herself—straightening her hair and blouse while turning to look at the tent entrance.   
  
Ron stood there with a bemused half-smile on his face.  
  
Feeling her face burn with something other than unrealized lust, Leslie cleared her throat and tugged protectively on her blazer. "Yes Ron? You want to rethink the guard schedule around Li'l Sebastian's pen?" Of all the times for Ron to start actually caring about work, why now? Ugh.  
  
Ron's eyes darted back and forth between her and Ben, who appeared to be compulsively straightening his sweater and nodding his head.   
  
"You know," Ron finally said, "I think I can handle this one on my own." Then, with a wink and a nod, he added, "As you were," and left the tent.  
  
Leslie couldn't help but grin. Silly Ron, always claiming not to care. She knew better. With a laugh she turned back to Ben. "Well, that was fun."  
  
His answering laugh rang hollow. "Yeah. Yeah." He shuffled his feet and nodded, not meeting her eyes.  
  
Leslie's heart sank. She could see his doors closing tight and his walls going back up right before her eyes.  
  
 _Damn it! Why?_  
  
"Hey, is everything okay?" She edged back toward him and wrapped her fingers around his, trying to pull him back from that place he always seemed to run to whenever things between them got too intense.  
  
"Yep. Yeah." He nodded, squeezing her hand a little, but he still didn't quite meet her eyes.  
  
So. That was it, then. She knew it was over even before he spoke.  
  
"You know—" He shuffled his feet. "I think maybe it would be best if we both went home and tried to get some sleep. We have an early morning and a long day ahead of us."  
  
Her shoulders slumped. "Yeah. Okay. You're right. We should do that. Definitely. Big day."  
  
"Yes. Yes, we do." He sounded almost as if he was struggling to convince himself. He sighed. "Okay. I—I just want to say thank you, again, for everything tonight. You really were amazing." This time he met her eyes, and his gaze seemed to hold an unspoken apology for what he was about to do.  
  
Everything they'd talked about before—all they reasons they'd decided not to be together—was still true. Nothing had changed. He knew it, and she knew it. But god did it suck.  
  
"You were really amazing, too," she said softly. "I couldn't have done it without you."  
  
He looked down and nodded his head a little. "Thanks."  
  
He took a deep breath, looked back up and leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her temple. "I'll see you tomorrow." He gave her hand one last squeeze before letting go and walking out of the tent without looking back.  
  
Leslie sat back down on the table and gripped the edge to steady herself.  
  
 _Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter originally published on LiveJournal in July 2012

Chris had been avoiding any and all projects related to the Harvest Festival. He hated seeing the resentment in Leslie Knope's eyes, and he didn't want to run the risk of bumping into Ann. Needless to say, the past two weeks had been rather unpleasant. He'd come very close to an all-out depression when he first entered federal protective custody, just prior to the ill-fated hearing. However, his time in Pawnee had lifted his spirits considerably. Until now.  
  
He had just finished tipping the last drops of his pre-run smoothie into his mouth early on the Monday morning of the Harvest Festival opening when Ben ambled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.   
  
"Ben! Good morning, early bird. How delightful to see you up before the sun. I was just setting out on my morning run to take in the crisp air and the glorious sunrise. Would you like to join me?" The endorphins from the activity would surely be good for him, and Chris had been missing his company.  
  
Ben stared vacantly into space for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. I think I'd actually like that."  
  
Chris's jaw dropped. "Benjamin! I am floored. But delighted. Would you like a pre-run smoothie?"  
  
"No." Ben shook his head. "I'll just drink a glass of water and change into some shorts. Give me a minute."  
  
It felt wonderful to hit the street with Ben at his side. It didn't even matter that Chris had to slow his normal pace considerably in order to accommodate Ben's more leisurely approach to jogging. Chris still found himself smiling wider than he had in weeks. What a glorious start to what would surely be a glorious week.  
  
"There's something I need to tell you," said Ben after a few minutes.  
  
"Certainly," replied Chris. "What's on your mind, buddy?"  
  
"I—kind of made out with Leslie last night."  
  
Chris nearly tripped. After regaining his balance he tried to get his mind back in focus. So. In spite of Ben's unending stream of protests, this was actually happening. Chris should have known it was inevitable. But what would it mean for their future? Ben was far too honest to carry on their deception with someone he cared about deeply—an admirable quality, to be sure, but not necessarily a good thing under the present circumstances.  
  
"Does this mean that the two of you are officially involved, now?" he asked, easing into the difficult discussion.  
  
"I don't know," said Ben, his feet hitting the pavement with an unpleasant slap as they continued to jog. His shoes weren't really suited for the activity. "It was really late, at the end of a stressful day, and it just kind of happened. We didn't really get around to talking about what it meant. I guess we'll have to do that."  
  
Chris nodded, trying to parse Ben's words. He'd seen some of the news coverage of the so-called curse and the missing pony, which surely must have given considerable stress to everyone involved in the festival. He had no doubt that the situations had been successfully resolved. After all, Ben and Leslie were excellent at their jobs. And he could certainly understand giving into temptation after such a long, difficult day. But Ben really should have resolved things more concretely. "Yes. You certainly will. If you decide to pursue a relationship, it's important that you and I coordinate our cover stories more regularly so that Leslie won't suspect. Unless—" He hesitated as they rounded a bend and dodged a large raccoon. "Unless you plan on telling her." Chris's stomach churned a little at the thought of all the complications that could ensue from such a choice. However, if anyone could ever be trusted with their secret, it was Leslie Knope.  
  
"No," said Ben firmly. "I couldn't do that to her. She doesn't deserve to be dragged into this mess."  
  
"Ah."  
  
They jogged in silence for another two blocks.  
  
When Ben spoke again, his words were so soft that Chris could barely make them out. "I really care about her."  
  
"I know you do."  
  
A half-block later, Ben said, "I get it, now. Why you broke up with Kelsey. I finally understand."  
  
Chris slowed to a halt, Ben stopping beside him. Chris could feel an ache in his chest that had nothing to do with the jogging. He reached out to grip Ben's shoulder. "Keeping her out of this is the right choice. It's hard, but in the long run it's the only way to keep her safe."  
  
Ben nodded, his face grim. "I know."  
  
Chris remembered the agony of choosing to end things with Kelsey very well. It wasn't something he'd wish on an enemy, let alone a friend. He squeezed Ben's shoulder. "You'll get through this. I'll be here to help. And don't forget—one day, not too many months from now, this whole ordeal will be over. And when it is, I'm sure Leslie will forgive you for deceiving her. There might still be a future for you when the trial ends. Never let go of that dream."  
  
"I won't. And—and maybe you'll have a chance to clear the air with Kelsey and see if there might be a second chance. You never know." Ben shrugged.  
  
Chris beamed. Maybe his optimism was finally starting to rub off on Ben. It was about time. "Thank you. I certainly hope you're right."  
  
Ben nodded. "I think I'll head back, now. I have to be to the fairgrounds early for a press conference. I'll, uh, keep you posted if anything changes with the Leslie situation."  
  
"Excellent. I'll see you later today. Good luck." Chris patted his friend one more time before continuing his jog. The brilliant sunrise warmed his heart.   
  
Yes. It was going to be a glorious week.  
  
***  
  
Ben hated when Chris was right. But there was no denying it: Chris was right.  
  
There was no way Ben could feel good about having a relationship with Leslie without telling her the truth. And telling her the truth would drag her too deep into his problems and put her in harm's way.  
  
No. He had to move things firmly back into "friends" territory.  
  
This time, he'd stick with his resolution. He'd stay strong. He knew he could do it.  
  
Until he walked onto the fair grounds and saw her smile and wave and felt his heart jump for joy in his chest.  
  
 _Fuck._  
  
***  
  
Leslie felt genuinely relieved when Ben didn't bring up their spontaneous make-out session before the press conference. She needed her head in the game.  
  
The successful press conference and the fantastic opening hours of the festival were more than enough to occupy her mind for most of the morning. But by her lunch break, when Ben still hadn't brought anything up, she started to get frustrated. And when he still hadn't said anything by her mid-afternoon coffee break, she got really frustrated.   
  
Did he think they could simply pretend it had never happened? Because that was pretty damn unrealistic. This was exactly the sort of condescending, jerk-faced behavior that had led her to occasionally hate him in the first place.  
  
She was about to tell him where he could go stick that ridiculously cute head of his (someplace extremely unpleasant), when he turned up at the staff tent around dinnertime with a JJ's takeout box and a tall coffee cup.   
  
He held them up with a smile. "Waffles and a mocha latte, extra sugar, extra chocolate, extra whipped cream. I thought you could use a pick-me-up to help you push through the rest of the evening."  
  
Just like that, all was forgiven. How could she stay mad at anyone who brought her any combination of waffles, coffee, chocolate and whipped cream? It was physically impossible.  
  
They sat down at one of the tables together, and she smiled at him after sucking a generous scoop of whipped cream off of her finger. "Do you want to share?"  
  
He shook his head. "I had a burger half an hour ago. And then it occurred to me that you'd probably forget to eat, so. . ." He shrugged.  
  
God she wanted to kiss him again.  
  
Stupid economy dragging him away to stupid Atlanta. She didn't think she'd ever despised a city before (other than Eagleton), but she was certainly starting to despise Atlanta. "Thanks."  
  
"You're welcome." He watched eat for a few moments, chatting inconsequentially about the goings-on of the first day of the festival. Then, after she swallowed the last bite of her first waffle, his eyes took on a nervous cast. "Um—we should probably talk, at some point, about . . . things." He gestured back and forth between the two of them.   
  
Those old warm tingles stirred back up in Leslie's chest, but this time they didn't feel quite so good. She nodded. "Yeah. We probably should."  
  
"I wasn't even sure if I should bring it up, today," Ben said, "because I didn't want it to get in the way of you enjoying the first day of the festival—"  
  
"No. I'm glad you brought it up. We do need to talk. About things."  
  
"Yep. That's what I thought." He fidgeted. "So . . ."  
  
She sighed. "Nothing's changed. I get that. You're still going to Atlanta." Cursed city. The mayor was probably a Death Eater.  
  
"I am." His shoulders sagged. "It's a good job."  
  
"You don't have to defend your choice. I get it. I really do."  
  
"Okay." He tapped nervously on the table. "Okay. But I—I—this whole _just friends_ thing is turning out to be a lot harder than I expected."  
  
There went those tingles again. She swallowed hard. "Yes. It is."  
  
His gaze locked with hers. "I don't know what to do. What I want to do and what I think is the right thing to do are completely at odds right now. I really _really_ don't know what to do. I was hoping you could, maybe, help with that?" The raw honestly of his plea was almost painful to hear.  
  
Maybe she'd get lucky and a meteor would hit Atlanta. That'd buy her a little time, wouldn't it? Ugh. Crap. Yuck. Frack. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How the hell was she supposed to help when she felt stuck in the exact same quandary?   
  
"I don't know what to do, either," she admitted.  
  
He slumped a little more and started tapping on the table with a nervous, manic rhythm. "Great."  
  
Leslie rolled her eyes. "I'm not any happier about this than you are. It's a really tricky situation. And it sucks. And I hate Atlanta. But you need a job and Atlanta has the job and Pawnee doesn't."  
  
"Yes. Yes, it does." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "There have definitely been times lately when I've kind of hated Atlanta, too. Last night, for instance."  
  
Leslie perked up the corners of her lips into the beginnings of a smile. At least they both agreed about how last night made them feel. Unfortunately, that still didn't solve the problem at hand. Her mind flashed through half a dozen possible scenarios, but none of them seemed terribly promising. There was, however, one constant in all of her thoughts. "Look. The bottom line for me is that whatever we do, I want you in my life. I care about you too much to give up on this—even if it means sticking with the _just friends_ thing."  
  
Ben leaned toward her, his eyes intense. "I want that, too. I really do. But I haven't figured out how to make being friends work without running into more situations like last night. Because I don't think I can stop wanting to be with you."  
  
Oh god. _Would kissing him right now be completely inappropriate? Probably. Crap._  
  
"But—" he continued, "—but I'm also having trouble imagining a scenario where we can be together without one or both of us getting hurt in the long run."  
  
Leslie took a few deep breaths to steady herself and fought to quell the urge to just make out with his face right that moment. "Maybe we need to stop thinking about the long run," she said, hoping she didn't sound completely desperate. "Maybe we need to make the most of every day as it comes and figure the rest out later."  
  
An almost-smile lit his face with an air of hope, but it didn't last long. "I don't know if that's a good idea."  
  
"What other choice do we have?"  
  
Ben looked down and shook his head. "The only other option is to cool things down. Spend less time together. Maybe start keeping things purely professional."  
  
"No!" Leslie surprised herself with the violence of her reaction. But really, why should anything that he just said be okay with her? "No," she repeated in a calmer tone of voice. "That option is unacceptable. We have to find another way."  
  
His half-smile returned. "Okay, then. I guess that answers that. But I still don't know—"  
  
"Don't know what to do. I get it. Neither of us knows. God, this is so unfair."  
  
"I won't disagree on that point."  
  
Leslie squeezed her lips together, her mind still spinning. She shook her head. "Look—we don't have to come up with an answer right now. Or today, even. The past few days have been crazy and stressful and overwhelming, and it's not too easy to think right now. So here's what I suggest: we just keep going like we've been going, and take some time to think things over for the next few days. We're both bright people. Before the end of the festival one or the other of us will absolutely figure out a way to make all this work. I'm sure of it."  
  
His smile didn't disappear. In fact, it seemed to get just a smidge bigger. "Okay. We'll take a few days and think about it. I can do that."  
  
"Good. That's a plan, then. Now have a bite of this waffle. Waffles make everything better."  
  
This time his smile definitely got bigger. "Oh really?"  
  
"Really." She broke off a chunk of waffle and scooped up some whipped cream on it. "Open wide."  
  
He opened his mouth obligingly, and Leslie pushed the cream-laden waffle into it.  
  
"Mmmm," said Ben as he chewed his mouthful, a dollop of cream still decorating the corner of his lips.  
  
Leslie reached out to wipe up the dollop with her finger and popped it into her own mouth, sucking it clean. _Mmmm indeed._  
  
Ben grinned at her as he swallowed. "I think you're right. Waffles do make everything better."  
  
If only they also magically solved tricky relationship problems. Unfortunately, those were for Leslie to work out on her own.  
  
***  
  
On Tuesday, Ben still couldn't think of a solution to his Leslie problem that didn't include telling her the truth.  
  
On Wednesday his mind was equally blank.  
  
By Thursday he was getting a little bit desperate. By midmorning he felt so antsy and nervous around her that he took a break from the festival and headed back to city hall to do some preliminary number-crunching. He'd call it a "mid-festival report."   
  
But even the dull routine of plugging figures into spreadsheets did nothing to clear his mind.  
  
On his lunch he decided to try another distraction technique and looked up the website for the Partridge Daily Herald to check out the stories from the last few weeks. (It had technically been down-graded from a daily to a bi-weekly about five years ago, and half of each issue was ads for the local grocery stores, the used car lot and few other select local retailers. But they updated the website daily, so they kept the name). His mom and a few cousins still lived in Partridge and it was fun to check in once in awhile. It certainly wasn't as good as talking with his mom directly, but beggars couldn't be choosers.  
  
He skimmed through the recent headlines, smirking at some of the more amusing small town concerns. In some ways, Partridge was every bit as crazy as Pawnee. When he got to the headlines from Monday, all his amusement vanished.  
  
His stomach twisted into a hard knot as he clicked on the headline: "Beloved Local Teacher in Critical Condition After Car Crash."  
  
 _Please let it be someone else. Please._  
  
It wasn't someone else.  
  
"Partridge High history teacher Doreen Adams remains in critical condition this morning after her Ford Focus collided with an SUV late Sunday evening . . ."  
  
The knot in his stomach multiplied into two knots, and then into three knots plus a raging headache as he continued to read. Before he finished reading he had his phone in his hand pushing one of his speed dials.  
  
"Agent Burdette," answered a crisp voice.  
  
Ben fought to get his words out around a tight throat. "When exactly were you planning on telling me about my mother?"  
  
"Ben? What are you talking about?"  
  
"Don't treat me like an idiot. I know you keep track of my family. So when the hell were you planning on telling me about my mother?" He couldn’t stop his voice from rising to a near-shout as he gripped the phone like he wanted to squeeze the life out of it.  
  
"Calm down, Ben. She's in stable condition. She's going to be fine. What I need to know is how you found out. Have you been in contact with her or your brother?"  
  
Ben felt like throwing the phone. Hard. "No I haven't been in contact. I follow the protocols. I'm not stupid. I'm so not stupid that I know how to use the fucking internet to look up my hometown newspaper, which had a huge fucking article on her accident. That's how I found out."  
  
"Oh. That." Burdette sounded annoyed.  
  
Screw her annoyance. This was his mother. "Yeah, _that._ " He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "I mean, when was the last time you people updated your policies to account for people using the goddamn internet? Seriously. You actually thought I wouldn't find out unless you told me?"  
  
"Ben—" Burdette's voice took on a stern school-teacher tone. One he knew all too well after growing up the son of a teacher. "—you need to calm down about this. If her condition had been life-threatening we would have told you immediately, but she was never in any serious danger of passing."  
  
"Is she home yet? Is someone taking care of her?"  
  
"She's still in the hospital, but they expect to release her no later than Saturday—"  
  
Ben choked. "Saturday?! You mean to tell me that she'll be in the hospital for nearly a week but she was in _no serious danger_? What the hell constitutes danger in your book, then?"  
  
"She's very shaken up and has a few broken bones, but she'll be fine. Your brother and his wife are here, we've had a police guard posted at her room 24 hours a day, and we've officially offered her federal protection if she wants it—"  
  
"Hold on a minute," said Ben, the pieces slowly clicking into place in his mind. "She—she wouldn't need police protection unless this accident wasn't really an accident. What the hell is going on here, Tonya?"  
  
"Fuck," she cursed. "Look—Agent Lewis and I can be there in two hours to brief you and Chris on the situation in person. Just hang tight until then and we'll explain everything."  
  
"Two hours? I can't wait two hours—"  
  
"Yes. You can. Go get Chris, and meet us at your condo. We'll be there in two hours." She hung up before he could protest again.  
  
Ben dropped the phone to his desk with a clatter and rested his head in his hands.  
  
He'd been a delusional idiot. He'd been living in denial. Fundraisers and festivals wouldn't solve anything. Nothing in his life would be right until Everson and his cronies were behind bars.  
  
***  
  
"That's it," said Ben, pacing back and forth across their living room. "I can't take this. I'm calling the hospital."  
  
Chris sighed. "No, you aren't." It didn't seem to matter to Ben that they'd been through four versions of this conversation already since returning to their condo. Nothing would calm him. "If this accident really was orchestrated by Everson, he did it expressly to draw you out of hiding. You know that."  
  
Ben simply shook his head and continued to pace. "Damn it. Why aren't they here?"  
  
Chris sighed again. The marshals weren't there because only an hour had passed since Ben's initial conversation with Tonya. Driving from Indianapolis took as long as it took. Unfortunately, Ben wasn't in the mood to see reason.  
  
Ben continued to pace, and Chris leaned back into the sofa cushions, trying to meditate. It wasn't like Ben was the only person with something at stake, here. Chris had relatives that stood in harm's way, as well. Everson could be actively working on plans to hurt or kill some of them right this minute, and Chris felt utterly powerless to do anything about it.  
  
Nothing felt worse than powerlessness.  
  
Except, perhaps, hopelessness; but they certainly hadn't gotten to that point. Not yet.  
  
A few minutes later Ben's phone rang, and he answered it immediately. "Yes? Oh. Hi. Yeah. I'm—I'm okay."  
  
Chris frowned. Ben sounded anything but okay.  
  
Ben kept mumbling morose responses. "The mid-festival reports? Oh. I—I forgot. I—No. Really. I'm okay—"  
  
Chris rose to his feet. He couldn't take this anymore. "Is that Leslie Knope?"  
  
Ben stared at him with wide eyes, and nodded.  
  
"Give me the phone." Chris held out his hand, putting on his sternest face.  
  
It worked.  
  
"Hold on a minute," Ben mumbled into the phone, and then handed it over to Chris.  
  
Chris held the phone up to his ear. "Leslie Knope? This is Chris Traeger."  
  
"Chris?" said Leslie, sounding more than a little worried. "What's going on? What's wrong with Ben?"  
  
There was no time to spin elaborate lies, so, for once, Chris opted to stick with the truth. "Ben was trying to put on a brave face and keep you out of his problems, but I know he trusts you, so I'll tell you the truth."  
  
"What? What is it?"  
  
Chris took a deep breath. "Ben is highly upset at the moment. Early this afternoon he received word that a member of his family was in a severe automobile accident and is in the hospital."  
  
"Oh my god! Why didn't he say anything?" Leslie asked.  
  
"I'm afraid Ben isn't thinking too clearly at the moment. We're still waiting for a call back with more information on the exact status of the situation. Currently Ben is very much in the dark, and he's not handling it well. I'll stay with him and make sure he gets all the information he needs."  
  
"Is there anything I can do? I can come right over if he needs me—"   
  
Once again, Leslie was proving herself a wonderful friend and truly admirable human being. But now was most certainly not the time for her get involved. "No, Leslie. The festival needs you. Stay and take care of things on the ground. I'll be with Ben. I'll take good care of him. I promise."  
  
Leslie hesitated before answering, and after the way things played out with Ann, Chris couldn't blame her. "Okay. Take care of him. I'll check in later tonight."  
  
"That would be best."  
  
After hanging up, Chris turned back to Ben, who stood in the center of the room looking more than a little lost. "Hang in there, buddy. Agents Burdette and Lewis will be here soon and they'll have the answers you're looking for. I'm sure everything will be all right."  
  
He managed to convince Ben to sit down and drink some soothing herbal tea—which always helped Chris immensely whenever he felt stressed or worried—and before they knew it the marshals were knocking at their door.  
  
Ben barked out a few angry, irrational questions and accusations as soon and Burdette and Lewis walked in, but Chris managed to calm him and to get him to sit back down so the agents could explain the situation properly. Anger would get them nowhere right now. They needed information.  
  
"Here's what went down," said Lewis, looking at Ben. "On Sunday night your mother ran a red light on her way home from the grocery store and hit an SUV."  
  
"She would never run a red light." Ben sounded offended at the suggestion.  
  
Burdette nodded. "Given her squeaky clean driving record, our people thought the accident looked suspicious. They had the local PD investigate and they found that her breaks had been tampered with."  
  
Ben leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands. "Oh god."  
  
Chris felt more than a little sick to his stomach. "So it's certain. Everson is targeting our families, now."  
  
"It looks that way," replied Lewis. "A security camera caught a few glimpses of the two men who tampered with Mrs. Adams' car while she was in the store. They were real pros. In and out in less than three minutes. We put out an APB, but we don't expect to catch them. We're pretty sure they were paid professionals from out of town."  
  
"Oh god," Ben moaned again.  
  
"Ben," said Burdette, "we'll get back to this stuff later. First, you need to know about your mom. Like I said, she's okay. She's beat up, but she's strong."  
  
Ben lifted his head to look at Burdette with red eyes.  
  
"Let me get this right," she said, lifting her phone to pull up an email. "Your mother has a broken femur and fractured hip in her left leg. She dislocated her right shoulder, and has three fractured ribs. She also has a concussion. The leg injuries were the worst, and she'll be on her back in a hip to toe cast for another five weeks. She'll be in a wheelchair for at least a month after that, and in physical therapy for a long time. It's not good, but she was never in danger of dying. The agent on the ground says she's already chomping at the bit to get home and get back to work. She's a tough lady. She'll be just fine."  
  
The nausea in Chris's stomach intensified as he pictured his own parents suffering those injuries. Or worse. Were they next on Everson's list?  
  
Ben nodded weakly. "Okay. And—and you said Don and Lisa are with her?"  
  
Burdette gave a sharp nod. "Yep. Your brother and his wife got to Partridge early Monday morning. They're staying in your mom's house, and an agent is with them 24-7. There's also a guard on your mom's room 24-7."  
  
"My parents—" said Chris, unable to contain his worries any longer. "Are they safe?"  
  
Lewis spoke up. "We've got them covered, Chris. Rebecca and Steve are under twenty-four hour protection. Harold and Lynette turned down the protection, but we have the local PD doing a drive-by three times a day. So far there are no signs of trouble."  
  
Chris clenched his hands in his lap. It was just like his father to turn down protection—but he'd hoped that Lynette would've been able to talk some sense into him. Still, none of it made Chris feel truly safe. Everson seemed to have claws everywhere. He could get to anyone . . .  
  
"Kelsey." The name burst out of Chris's lips as soon as it rose in his mind.  
  
Lewis and Burdette both looked at him curiously.  
  
"Kelsey?" Burdette asked.  
  
Chris swallowed hard, internally debating the merits of what he wanted to ask. He squeezed his lips together. Why should he be afraid to speak up? Yes, the possibility of Kelsey being in danger was slim, but as long as that possibility existed, he wouldn't rest easy. "Kelsey Gerard, my ex-girlfriend. She means a great deal to me. It's possible that Everson could try to get to me by targeting her. Would you please have someone from your agency check in on her to verify her safety?"  
  
Lewis's eyes narrowed. "Why haven't you mentioned her before?"  
  
"Because I never believed she would be under threat, before. But Everson has just proved how far he's willing to go." Chris shook his head. "No one associated with us is truly safe anymore. Will you please see to it that someone checks in on her?"  
  
Burdette held Chris's gaze, a small smile on her face. She nodded. "Okay. I'll make sure it happens."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Chris's gut still churned at the thought of anyone hurting his parents or Kelsey, but it eased his fear a little to have the federal marshals on the job.  
  
***  
  
Ben felt like his whole world was collapsing all over again—just like on that day the lead prosecutor was shot before his eyes.  
  
His mother.  
  
 _His mother._  
  
Was there no low Everson wouldn't stoop to? No depths he wouldn't crawl through to save his own corrupt hide?  
  
Ben couldn't deny that his first instinct today had been to call it quits. To throw in the towel. To admit that this fight wasn't worth it.  
  
But as the conversation progressed around him, those feelings were replaced by shame. Quitting was exactly what Everson wanted him to do. That was the whole point of this attack.  
  
 _Leslie would never let something like this stop her._  
  
That thought stuck in his mind, lending him strength and determination.  
  
He'd barely noticed when Lewis stepped into the kitchen to make a phone call, and looked up from his shocked trance when Lewis stepped back into the living room and said his name.  
  
"Yes?" Ben asked, still trying to bring himself back into the present.  
  
Lewis looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "We arranged something for you on our way down from Indy." He extended his hand, holding out a cheap-looking cell phone.  
  
Ben raised an eyebrow. "What . . .?"  
  
"It's a burner phone," replied Lewis. "And I just finished pre-programming a single phone number into it. You call that number and your mother will be one who answers. The agent supervising her protection picked up a burner phone for her, just for this one call. We're giving you five minutes. That's it."  
  
A lump rose in Ben's throat. He had to remember this: for every greedy asswipe like Everson, there were a hundred normal, decent, good human beings like Lewis and Burdette. Like Ron and Andy. Like his mom. Like Leslie. And those were the people that Everson hurt with his drug manipulation schemes.   
  
Those were the people Ben was fighting to protect.  
  
"Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion.  
  
Lewis smiled and nodded, handing over the phone. "Go on up to your room for some privacy. I'll wait on the stairs and give a holler when time's up. Remember—don't share any personal information. No hints about where you are, or what you've been doing that your mother might inadvertently pass along to the wrong person."  
  
"I'll be careful."  
  
Ben headed up to his room and closed the door softly behind him. He sat on his bed and took a few deep breaths. With a shaking hand, he hit the pre-set speed dial and lifted the phone to his ear.  
  
His mom answered half-way through the second ring. "Hello?" Her voice sounded scratchy, like she had a cold, and out of breath. But it was definitely her.  
  
"Mom. It's me."  
  
"Oh my god, Benji. Oh my god."  
  
Ben couldn't fight the moisture rising in his eyes and his shoulders started to shake. "I'm so sorry, mom. I'm so, so sorry."  
  
"No." Her voice was firm and intense. "Don't apologize for this. Don't you dare apologize for this."  
  
"Mom—?"  
  
"You know as well as I do that you are in no way responsible for my accident. Don't back down. Don't let that man intimidate you."  
  
Ben smiled through his tears. "I won't. I won't give up until he gets what he deserves. I promise."  
  
"Good boy."  
  
"Are you—are you going to be all right?"  
  
"I will be if they ever let me leave this hospital and get back home. The food here is terrible." Her voice still sounded scratchy, but there was nothing weak or feeble about it.  
  
"Don’t be in too much of a hurry. You need to take care of yourself. I want you back on your feet as soon as possible." Ben couldn't help but smile at the thought of what his mother must be doing to the poor doctors and nurses trying to take care of her.  
  
"Believe me, that's exactly what I want. They tell me I can't go back to work for another six weeks. I think I'll aim for four."  
  
"If anyone can manage it, it's you."  
  
Her voice grew softer. "Honey—are you in a good place? Are you safe?"  
  
Ben took another deep breath and wiped away the tears on his cheek. "I am. I'm in a really good place, full of really good people. And I'm probably a hell of a lot safer than you and Don and Lisa are, right now. I wish—" He almost bit back his words, knowing full well how his mom would react, but he had to say them. "I wish you guys would let the marshals take you away to a safe place for a few months. Just until after the trial."  
  
His mom huffed. "We talked about this five months ago, and my answer hasn't changed. I am not letting that man bully me into leaving my life and my home. No way. But—but if Don and Lisa feel like they want the protection, I'll tell them they should take it."  
  
Ben's eyebrows shot up. This was huge about-face.   
  
"Lisa's expecting," said his mother quietly.  
  
"Wow. God." Ben hadn't even known they were trying for kids, yet. He felt more tears rising, and blinked hard. "I—I—yeah. See if they'll take protection. We can't—I can't have them risking themselves right now. God. I'm so sorry."  
  
"What did I say about apologizing?"  
  
Ben shook his head. Mom never changed. Thank god. "Right. Got it."  
  
"Don and Lisa understand why you're doing what you're doing. We're all behind you one-hundred percent. I'm proud of you. More proud than I've ever been in my entire life."  
  
"Thank you," he said, on the verge of chocking up. Why did doing the right thing always have to be so goddamn hard? "I love you, Mom."  
  
"I love you, too, Benji. I love you, and I believe in you. Stay strong for me."  
  
Lewis's voice called up from the stairwell. "Time's up, Ben. Sorry."  
  
Ben swallowed and closed his eyes. "They're saying we have to hang up now."  
  
"I knew this would be short. Don't worry about me. Don't worry about Don and Lisa. Just keep yourself safe and be ready to bring down that bastard. Got it?"  
  
Ben smiled again. "Got it."  
  
"I love you, baby."  
  
"I love you."  
  
Hanging up felt like a betrayal.  
  
He headed slowly down the stairs and handed the phone back to Lewis. "Thank you. Really. Both of you."  
  
Lewis nodded, and Burdette smiled. "It was the right thing to do."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
A few minutes later, after some final parting warnings, Burdette and Lewis left to head back to Indy.  
  
Ben sank into his favorite armchair, closed his eyes and rubbed his head.  
  
"I don't think I can sit still, after all this," said Chris, breaking the quiet. "Would you be up for some sparring?"  
  
Ben opened his eyes and shook his head. "Not tonight. I don't have it in me."  
  
"How about a run? A good long run always helps me re-center my emotions." Chris looked as antsy as Ben had ever seen him.  
  
"No. Not for me. But you go on ahead. Do what you need to do."  
  
Chris nodded and headed up to his room, babbling about the mental and emotional benefits of exercise. A few minutes later, after changing, he headed out on his run and left Ben in peace.  
  
He'd thought the silence would be soothing, but the sound of his own frustrated, anxious thoughts bouncing around his head was overwhelming. He had to find a way to shut his brain down for just a few hours.   
  
He thought he had the perfect solution. He hopped in his car and headed to Sullivan's, determined to get as drunk as possible.  
  
***  
  
Leslie loved surprises. But only the good kind.  
  
For instance, she would have loved to be surprised by Ben telling her that he was willing to try out a relationship after all—even if it meant going long-distance in just over a month. (She still couldn't wrap her brain around the fact that she felt that way about a man she'd never really dated yet. But god, she really did.)  
  
She would have loved being surprised by a festival-inspired promise from Paul to fund her lot 48 park project as a reward for her hard work.  
  
She would have loved to be surprised by the news that Li'l Sebastian had just fathered a foal every bit as adorable and amazing as himself.  
  
But being surprised by the news that Ben was freaking out because someone in his family had been in a terrible car accident was the opposite of the kind of surprises she loved.  
  
Even more than she hated bad surprises, she hated not knowing how to help her friends. And right now she really didn't know how to help Ben.  
  
After checking in on the crew managing that evening's free concert in the park and calling Ron to verify that the carnival was still running like clockwork, she looked at the time on her phone again. Seven forty-two.  
  
It had been nearly five hours since she talked to Ben and Chris. She'd given them plenty of time, right? And she had said she'd check in later. Five hours absolutely counted as later.  
  
Her only debate now was whether to call Ben directly, or to call Chris first.  
  
She hesitated, her thumb hovering over her phone. Chris might be more clear and detached in conveying exactly what had happened. But she still wasn't terribly fond of Chris right now. And Ben was the friend who needed her.  
  
That settled it.   
  
She hit the speed dial for Ben.  
  
She was certain she'd go to voicemail when, at the last moment, he answered. "Leslieeeeee. Hiiiiiii."  
  
This wasn't his normal greeting. She scrunched her forehead. "Hi Ben. I've been worried about you all day and I wanted to check in and see how you're doing."  
  
She heard a deep sigh. "You're so nice," he said. "Everyone here is soooo nice. I love this town. Because everyone is so nice. And I still don't get the pony thing. Really. It's just a small horse. What's the big deal? But the niceness balances out the weirdness." He paused. "What were we talking about?"  
  
"Are you drunk?"   
  
"Yep. I am. It's pretty cool."  
  
Leslie clenched her teeth and searched her brain—what exactly was she supposed to do in a situation like this? Ben wasn't normally the type of guy to drink away his problems, so he must be hurting pretty bad. Maybe he needed a friend to come be with him. On the other hand, maybe she'd just be adding more tension to what must already be a very stressful time for him. Ugh. "Um—is Chris with you?"  
  
Ben snorted. "No. I don't even think Chris knows how to get drunk. Too much alcohol would lit'rally kill him." He snickered at his attempted impression.  
  
"So you're drinking alone?" People should never drink alone. Or least they should never get drunk alone. It wasn't safe.  
  
"Nope. I'm with my old friend gin. My buddy beer wasn't getting the job done, but gin stepped up to the plate. I was actually thinking of getting really crazy and switching over to tequila. What do you think?" His words slurred together.  
  
"I don't think that's a good idea for you. Are you at home?"  
  
"Naw. No. 'M at Sullivan's."  
  
God. She couldn't leave him alone at a bar in that state. "Okay. Forget about tequila, you should order a bottle of water."  
  
"Hey," said Ben's voice, a little farther from the phone, "my friend says I should get a bottle of water. So do that for me, 'kay?" Then his voice got closer again. "The bartender says I have a smart friend. And you are. Smart."  
  
"Thanks." Leslie squeezed her eyes shut for a minute, mentally reviewing the tasks that still needed doing for the festival tonight. It only took her a few seconds to conclude that a few texts to the right people could easily pass all of her remaining duties off to other people in her department. "Look, you stay there and drink your water. I'm coming to pick you up, okay?"  
  
"Great! That's great. You're so nice."  
  
"Yeah. See you soon."  
  
As soon as she hung up she started hastily making all the necessary texts. The festival would be fine without her for one night.  
  
She made it to Sullivan's at just after eight. Ben sat at the bar sipping his bottle of water. His face broke into a grin when he saw her. "Heyyyyy."  
  
He stood up when she approached and immediately stumbled. Leslie grabbed at his chest to steady him, and he promptly draped his arms around her and drew her into a hug.  
  
"My mom's in the hospital. Did Chris tell you my mom's in the hospital?"  
  
"No. He didn't." Leslie's heart ached for him. When Chris had said a "family member" was injured, she'd assumed it must be a sibling or close cousin. But his mom? She'd didn't even want to think about what she'd be feeling if her mom was hospitalized after a major accident. "I'm so sorry, Ben. Is she—will she be—?" She had no idea how to finish the question.  
  
He squeezed her tighter. "She said she's going to be all right. But she'll be in a—in a wheelchair. For, like, a month or something. And that's not all right, is it?"  
  
"No. It's not."  
  
"I don't know what to do," he said softly. "I want to do something, but I don't know what."  
  
Leslie held onto him, rubbing his back. "Let's start by getting you home to sleep this off." She leaned back enough to look up into his eyes. "Have you had anything to eat since breakfast?"  
  
"I think I maybe had some lunch. And then I had some nachos? I think?"  
  
Leslie looked at the bartender, who nodded. "Yep. He had chicken nachos an hour ago when I told him he needed to eat something or I'd cut him off. But he's also had three beers and four gin and tonics. He's been knocking it back since just before five this afternoon."  
  
"Ben, that wasn't very smart. You shouldn't drink alone. You should have called me, or Ron, or even Andy. You don't have to deal with this alone."  
  
He looked down at his feet. "Sorry."  
  
Leslie sighed. "Okay. Let's settle up your bill and get you home."  
  
Ben slumped low in the passenger seat on the ride back to his place, staring listlessly out the window. Leslie reached over to take his hand, and he rolled his head to look over at her.  
  
"I never thought something could happen to my mom. She's just—Mom. She's just there, and always will be. You know?" His voice shook a little.  
  
"I get. I really do."  
  
A few minutes later they pulled up alongside his condo complex. "Okay, let's get you inside." Leslie reached to unbuckle her seatbelt.  
  
"Oh god." Ben moaned, rubbing his face. "I'll have to see Chris. And he'll make me drink one of his herb smoothies to help me sober up. And then he'll force me to talk about my feelings. Gooood. Bleh."  
  
Leslie frowned. That did sound like something Chris would do. Maybe if she stayed over for a while? Or even . . . "Would you rather go back to my place? I can make you a sandwich and some coffee. I have a really cozy guest bed. You could stay all night."  
  
Ben's eyes lit up. "Really?"  
  
"Absolutely. I don't mind at all." The thought of Ben sleeping over in her guest room made her insides a little fluttery. But she could do this. He needed her right now, and this was the least she could do.  
  
"Okay."  
  
Leslie smiled. "Okay. To my house, then."  
  
Ben only wobbled slightly as she led him up to her door. Those nachos must have soaked up the alcohol better than she'd thought.  
  
After getting him comfortable on her sofa, she headed for the kitchen. "So, I can make you a grilled cheese, or PB&J. I'm afraid that's all I have right now. I haven't had much time for grocery shopping, lately."  
  
"What kind of jam do you have?" he called after her.  
  
She glanced in her fridge. "Raspberry or plum."  
  
"Raspberry. Peanut butter and raspberry sounds fantastic," he said.  
  
After a few minutes of fumbling around and carefully checking to make sure her bread hadn't gone moldy yet, Leslie presented Ben with a tray. "Ta da! One peanut butter and raspberry jam sandwich, a tall glass of milk, and strong coffee. It's just instant—that's all I could throw together this fast. Sorry."  
  
"It looks great. Thank you. You're so nice."  
  
She was getting a little tired of being called nice. Couldn't he mix in a "sexy"? Or even a "highly efficient and organized"?  
  
She sat down beside him as he started devouring the sandwich with great gusto, washing it down with the milk.  
  
"Mmmm," he said, licking away a milk mustache (which she never, before this moment, thought could be sexy. And she really shouldn't be thinking about sexiness right now, anyway. Not when he was so upset.). "This is the best peanut butter sandwich I've ever had. Seriously."  
  
Leslie couldn't help but smile at his cuteness. "You're welcome."  
  
She let him eat in silence, watching him finish the sandwich and milk before gulping down the coffee ridiculously fast.  
  
He leaned back against the sofa cushions with a contented sigh. "That was perfect. Thank you."  
  
"It was my pleasure."  
  
He tipped his head on the cushion so that he was looking right at her.  
  
She smiled.  
  
He smiled back. "You're my best friend, right now. I don't know what I'd do without you."  
  
Leslie held her breath as an army of dancing crickets bounced around her gut. Wow.  
  
Before she could think of a way to respond to that, Ben looked out into space and frowned. "I need to pee."  
  
Yeah. He was still drunk. _Don't put too much stock in anything he says right now_ , she chided herself. "Do you remember where the bathroom is?"  
  
"Isn't it just . . ." He pointed in the general direction of the main floor bathroom.  
  
"Uh-huh." She helped him to his feet and watched after him to make sure he headed in the right direction.  
  
Then she sank back onto the sofa with a sigh. _Get your head on straight, Leslie. You're here to help a friend in need. The relationship stuff can wait until he's dealt with whatever he needs to deal with. Don't push him._  
  
All the same, she found herself wishing she'd grabbed a beer while she was in the kitchen. She could really use something to help her relax right now.  
  
She was about to hop up and grab one when Ben came striding back into the room. His face glistened with droplets of water—he must have been splashing his face—and his expression had morphed from his relaxed state to one of high anxiety.  
  
"Ben?" Leslie rose to her feet.  
  
"What the fuck am I doing?" he said, waving his hands at his sides. "My mother is _in the hospital._ She's in a freaking hip to toe cast for _five weeks_. And, and I'm over here feeling sorry for myself and getting drunk and eating peanut butter sandwiches when I should be _doing something_. What the hell is wrong with me?"  
  
Leslie's eyebrows shot up. Apparently Ben's moods could be a little volatile when he was inebriated. "Hey, hey. Calm down."  
  
"I can't calm down. My mom is _in the hospital._ " He waved his hands a few more times for emphasis.  
  
"Okay." Leslie reached up slowly to pat his shoulders. "She is in the hospital. And that's horrible. And I agree that you need to do something. But what you need most right now is to get some rest and sober up so that you can move onto doing something even more helpful tomorrow morning."  
  
"Really?" Ben said with a look of pleading in his eyes.  
  
"Really. I mean, you can't exactly fly to Minnesota this instant, can you?"  
  
His shoulders slumped. "I guess not."  
  
She gripped his arm and gently led him back to the sofa. "How about you sit back down, and we can make some plans. That's doing something, right?"  
  
He sighed and nodded as he sat back down. "Yeah. Planning is something. It's good to plan. Plans lead to action."  
  
"Yes. They do." Leslie sat back beside him and held his hand. "So, let's start planning out what you can do to help her once you get to Minnesota tomorrow."  
  
"She told me not to come," Ben said in a mournful voice.  
  
"What?" Leslie's eyes went wide. "Why would she do that?"  
  
Ben rubbed his face with his free hand and sank back into the cushions again. "It's complicated."  
  
"How about you uncomplicate it for me. We've got all night."  
  
"Okay." Ben rubbed his face again. "I guess—well—my mom—we—" He fumbled for his words. "We always used to be close. My dad left when I was thirteen. He ran off with the twenty-two year old assistant manager of the Claire's Boutique that was a few stores down from the Sunglass Hut he managed in the local mall. It was a huge scandal. But Mom—she was amazing. I never saw her mope or cry or lose it. She probably did, at night, in her own room. But, uh, for me and my brother she always stayed so strong and so positive."  
  
Leslie turned and leaned sideways against the sofa back so she could watch him as he spoke. This was the most he'd ever talked about his life before leaving Partridge for college.  
  
"And a year later," he said, "when my dad showed back up wanting a relationship with his boys, she smiled through the whole thing and made it happen. Every other weekend, Wednesday evenings, and two weeks a summer. She never complained once. And when my brother said he didn't want to go, she insisted. She said boys needed a relationship with their father." He shook his head. "She was always so strong and put together. She never seemed indecisive or confused or scared. She always knew exactly what to say and do. It was pretty amazing." He took a deep breath. "And then when I broke my arm during the first game of the varsity baseball season, my dad acted like it was the end of the world. Like I'd never amount to anything because I'd failed at varsity sports. So I decided to run for mayor—partly to prove him wrong. Partly to impress a girl. Partly because of a dare. Lots of reasons. And it was idiotic, but my mom supported me one hundred percent."  
  
He turned to meet Leslie's gaze and ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "When I got impeached, my dad wanted to punish me for screwing up. But Mom stood by me and supported me. Until I kind of threw a fit and wrote an op-ed for the local paper blaming everyone but myself. That's when she grounded me." He smiled at the memory. "And I deserved it." Then his smile fell. "I've only talked to my dad twice since the day I was impeached. Once when he came over to talk to Mom about the _Ben problem_ , and once when I graduated from college. That's it."  
  
"I'm sorry," said Leslie.  
  
"I'm not. He's an asshole. And I still had Mom. We used to talk two or three times a week, and I'd visit her a few times a year. I love my mom. She's the best."  
  
"She sounds like it," said Leslie, sincerely. "I think I'd really like her."  
  
"I think she'd like you, too," said Ben, looking away from her gaze, his voice tinged with wistfulness.  
  
"So if you're so close, why'd she ask you not to come?" That seemed to be the matter at the heart of Ben's frustration. Time to sort it out once and for all.  
  
"We've drifted apart over the past year," said Ben, still not meeting her eyes. "First the—the—the layoff. And then—then—then starting this new thing with Chris." He almost seemed to be struggling to call up the details of his recent life. He hadn't seemed that impaired just a minute earlier, but maybe he was getting tired.  
  
"She wanted—" Ben hesitated. "She wanted—uh, uh, she didn't like my idea to start a consulting business with Chris. She didn't think it would work. Didn't think bouncing from job to job and place to place would be a good idea. We, uh, fought about it a few times. And I stopped calling her as often. And then after the—the shooting—" He seemed to shrink a little after saying the word. "I—I should have gone to her. I should have turned to her for help. But instead I just pulled more into myself and talked to her even less. It was a mistake."  
  
"Traumatic events can really change people. You were going through a lot of change and a lot of anxiety. Don't be hard on yourself."  
  
"But she's my mom," he said plaintively. "I've never not been close to her, until this past year. And now my little brother is the one there in Partridge taking care of her when he has a career and a wife to worry about, while I'm not much more than a glorified temp and I'm the oldest son and I should be the one to step up and help out. But I can't go because that's what he wants me t—because—because she told me not to come. That's why. Because she told me not to come." He trailed off the final sentence until he ended in a whisper.  
  
Leslie scrunched her forehead. Something deeper seemed to be going on here, but Ben clearly didn't want to talk about it. When he first arrived in Pawnee she'd assumed that his reserve and coldness was all part of his tough-budget-buster act. And later she assumed it was his anxiety from the shooting. Now it seemed like he'd been going through a lot more over the past year than he'd ever admitted to her. Well, she couldn't help with what she didn't know. But she sure as hell planned on helping with what she _did_ know. "Ben—something weird that people who are hurting sometimes do is say the opposite of what they mean, and I think that's what your mom is doing."  
  
Ben frowned a little and shifted his eyes to look at her. "Huh?"  
  
"Let me explain." Leslie took a deep breath. "I think your mom asked you not to come because she doesn't want you to come out of a sense of duty or obligation. But she really does want you to come. She just wants you to come because you care about her so much that you can't _not_ come. And she's not sure you feel that way anymore."  
  
"Of course I feel that way. You think she really thinks I don't love her like that anymore? She's my mom! Of course I love her enough to want to help her after her accident. Why—why—? Ugh." He let go of Leslie hands and rubbed his face."God, things are screwed up."  
  
"Yes. Right now they are pretty screwed up. And it's probably your fault for pulling away from her when she just wanted to help you."  
  
Ben dropped his hands and shook his head. "God, why would you even say that right now?"  
  
Oops. Leslie plunged ahead, trying to get past her un-called-for bluntness. "Look, the point is, you made a mistake. We all make mistakes. But it's not too late to fix things. Believe me, I know. I've had to fix my share of mistakes and really almost anything can be repaired if you care enough and work hard enough."  
  
"Really?" He raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Really. I mean, I almost killed Andy with a backhoe last year and he threatened to sue the city—"  
  
"You did?" Ben's eyes were wide.  
  
"Yes, but I worked hard and talked to Andy we and solved the problem and now we're great friends. And you and your mom already love each other so much that it won't take sneaking around behind your lawyer's back to solve this problem. Just show up. Ignore what she told you, get on a plane to Minnesota and spend a week with her. I'm sure she'll forgive you the instant you walk through that hospital door." Leslie grabbed Ben's hand again and held on tight.  
  
He sat up straighter and leaned toward her. "You really believe that will work?"  
  
"I know it will work."  
  
He let himself smile, and looked at her with wondering eyes. "I don't know how you manage to stay so positive and optimistic and confident about everything. It's like you only see the good in the world, and not the bad."  
  
Leslie shrugged. "I see the bad. But I like to think that I can make it better."  
  
Ben slowly shook his head, still smiling. "And that's why you're pretty much the best person I know."  
  
Leslie felt her face getting warm. She flicked her eyes away from his gaze. "Ben, I'm not the best person you know. There are great people everywhere—"  
  
"Not like you," he insisted. "Really. Good people aren't as common as you think. You have no idea how rare you really are." He leaned even closer to her. Now her whole body felt warm. Oh boy.  
  
"You're a good person, too," she said.  
  
He tipped his face down and shook his head. "Not like you."  
  
She reached up and placed both her palms on his cheeks, lifting his face to meet her eyes. "Yes. You are. You're a very good man. One of the best I know. You came here struggling and suffering and you put aside those feelings to help save my town from ruin. And you cared enough about my little low-priority department to go out of your way to help us, even when I was being a jerk to you. And you're going to get on a plane tomorrow to go help your mom, and everything's going to work out. Because you're an amazing person. And I'm glad I have you in my life."  
  
He raised his own hands to lightly grasp her wrists. He held her gaze with shining eyes for just a moment, and then closed his eyes and leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers. Leslie blinked her own eyes shut and held her breath. She could hardly think—and god, she really shouldn't feel so turned on right now. She'd have to figure out how to reign that in, or—  
  
"I really want to kiss you right now," Ben whispered.  
  
 _God, yes._ "Okay," she whispered back.  
  
"Okay," he repeated and then his lips were on hers, moving slow and soft.  
  
For a few minutes that was how things stayed—slow and soft. Like the making-out equivalent of wrapping up in a warm blanket and drinking a cup of hot cocoa. And good lord, it was great. For those few minutes, Leslie shut off her brain completely and simply reveled in the sensation.  
  
Then, without any preamble, something shifted. Ben's kisses got deeper and more intense. His hands started caressing her body more boldly, cupping over her breasts and sliding down her thighs sending ripples of excitement surging through her. When his fingers started fumbling with the buttons on her blouse the realization hit her that this was actually, truly, finally happening. And, just for a moment, her rational brain woke up long enough for her to worry that if Ben wasn't still tipsy and if he wasn't so upset then maybe he'd make completely the opposite choice about this, and maybe it would be for the best if she put a stop to it. . .  
  
That's when he finished on her buttons, slid his hands up her exposed midriff to her breasts and started rubbing her nipples with his thumbs while dipping his head to suck on the spot where her neck met her shoulder. And just like that, her rational brain turned back off.  
  
After a few more minutes of increasingly needy caressing, Leslie stumbled gracelessly to her feet and tugged on Ben's hand. "Come on. Let's go upstairs."  
  
It was time to take this show to the bedroom.  
  
***  
  
Ben stared at Leslie in awe as she took his hand and led him up her stairs. Her shirt sat in a heap somewhere behind them and one of her bra straps hung loose on her arm. She smiled down at him with lips swollen from his kisses, her disheveled hair framing her face like a halo.  
  
It felt like something out of one of his dreams—or his fantasies. Like it couldn't be real—shouldn't be real. But it was.  
  
Upstairs she turned to face him, drawing him forward by both hands as she backed into her bedroom.  
  
Should he try to wake up from this? Should he let reality intrude?  
  
Once they reached the foot of her bed she pulled his face down for another kiss.  
  
Reality could wait until tomorrow.  
  
She pulled out of the kiss and spoke, sounding a little breathless. "I'm on the pill, so we're covered on that front. And I'm clean. So if you're clean, I don't have to go digging under my sink for the condoms."  
  
Apparently reality insisted on intruding, anyway.  
  
"I'm—I'm clean." He stammered, his brain waking up from its blissful fog.  
  
"Good. I trust you." She started planting a row of kisses up his neck, completely unaware of how her words hammered in his brain.  
  
 _She shouldn't trust me. I don't deserve her trust. I've been lying to her every single day that we've known each other. I was still lying to her tonight._   
  
He gripped her shoulders and took a step back.  
  
Leslie looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Ben struggled to find the right words. "I—just—I—"  
  
"If you don't want to do this, we don't have to do this," said Leslie. "I won't push you into something you don't want to do."  
  
"No, I want to," the words poured out of his mouth before he could stop them. God, he wanted to. He'd been wanting to for longer than he dared to admit. He took a step back toward her and cradled her face in his hand. "I want to. I just—I—I can't—I—"  
  
"Hey," she said, closing the last of the distance between them and reaching up to caress his cheek. "You don't need to worry, tonight. If you want to be with me tonight, just be with me. Don't worry about what comes next. We'll figure that part out later."  
  
A wave of soothing relief washed over him as he leaned against her. It was as if these were the words he'd been waiting to hear for months now. This was the permission he'd needed.  
  
Without another word he tipped her head up for a kiss.  
  
There was nothing stopping him now.  
  
Just for tonight he could forget himself. He didn't have to be Ben Adams, former teen-mayor and corporate accountant-turned FBI informant. He didn't even have to be Ben Wyatt, hopelessly floundering budget consultant.  
  
As they lost themselves in the simple pleasure of shedding clothes and exploring one another's bodies for the first time, he believed that just for one night he could forget all his worries and be nothing more than a man making love to the most amazing woman in the world.  
  
For one brief moment, Leslie shocked him back to reality when her eyes locked in on the wide red scar on his shoulder, and her fingers reached out to trace it. He pulled her hand away and caught her lips for another kiss to distract her. Being reminded of where that scar came from was the last thing he needed tonight.  
  
Before long the last traces of his troubled life vanished behind the pleasures of the moment. There was nothing left but the soft curves of her body, the taste of her on his lips and her sounds of pleasure filling his ears and wiping his mind of anything else.  
  
Just for tonight, everything was perfect.  
  
***  
  
Leslie woke up hours before dawn to the sound of Ben's heavy breathing beside her in bed.  
  
She rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times, squinting in the darkness to watch the outline of his body rise and fall with every breath. He sounded so peaceful.  
  
She sucked on her bottom lip and swallowed. Her throat felt dry and scratchy. Usually, when she woke up early like this, she would hop up and start her day. But with Ben lying beside her she forced herself to stay put. He needed his rest, and she didn't want to wake him.  
  
Her mind replayed the events of last night. Now that the glow of sex had diminished and her brain had kicked back in, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd done the right thing. He'd come to her needy and vulnerable. Had she taken advantage of him?  
  
Her thoughts drifted back to the scar on his shoulder. As thick as a pencil, it stood out stark and red on his pale shoulder. The edges of the scar were ragged, like pages ripped from a magazine.   
  
Ben had been so quick to pull her hand away and turn her attention elsewhere. In spite of all he'd shared with her, she couldn’t help but think that there were still large parts of him that he kept hidden from her and she didn't know why. How many more scars was he keeping to himself?  
  
Leslie cared about Ben more than she'd cared about any man since Dave. But as she lay beside him in the dark, she couldn't help but wonder what she'd just gotten herself into.  
  
TBC


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter originally published on LiveJournal in September 2012

Ben woke up slowly, a mild headache disturbing him from his slumber. He fought to ignore it for as long as he could stand before reaching up to massage his forehead. After a moment he opened his eyes and tilted his head to look over at the other side of the bed.  
  
Leslie was gone.  
  
According to the clock on her nightstand, it was only 5:49. He'd heard she didn't sleep much. Now he had proof.  
  
He sighed and massaged his forehead again. So, how many new and exciting ways could he find to screw things up even worse, today?  
  
He hated to think about spending the night with Leslie as a screw-up. Because, at the time, it had felt pretty amazing. Exactly what he'd needed. Exactly what he'd been longing for. But now, in the cold light of day, he had to deal with the consequences.  
  
He'd just slept with his best friend in Pawnee under false pretenses and he had no idea whether or not he could—or should—tell her the truth.  
  
Crap. Now his headache was getting worse.  
  
He switched on the bedside lamp and fumbled to his feet. He managed to find his shorts on the ground and pulled them on before stumbling to the bathroom to relieve himself. After a moment of leaning on the counter with his eyes closed against the bright light, he splashed some cold water on his face. He shook his head a little and took in the sight of her personal effects artlessly scattered around the counter and shelves. His breath caught in his throat a little as the scent of her shampoo washed over him and he found himself longing wistfully to spend more time here. To make last night the first of many. But how could he, with a clear conscious?   
  
His weary, haggard face stared back at him from the mirror. What did she even see in him? At moments like this, he had no idea.  
  
"Ben?"   
  
He heard Leslie's muted voice drifting in from the bedroom. He cleared his throat and pushed his hair back from his face one more time before leaning out of the bathroom. "Hey."  
  
Her smile immediately brightened the dim room. "Hey, you," she replied. "I thought I heard you moving around up here."  
  
She sounded far too cheery for this hour of the morning. She deposited a loose bundle of clothes onto the bed and held out a mug. "I brought you some coffee. I tried not to make it too sweet. I know you don't like that."  
  
"Thanks," he replied, feeling slightly self-conscious as he crossed the room clad only in his shorts. Apparently it was easier to not worry about his body when he was in a drunken guilt-and-lust filled haze then it was the morning after.  
  
The coffee felt good going down and it was only slightly sweeter than he would have made it himself. Leslie was really getting the hang of it. On his second sip he sank back down to the bed. "Thanks. This is just what I needed."  
  
"Good," said Leslie, sitting down beside him. She was wearing sweat pants and a tank top, and her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. It was the most casual that Ben had ever seen her, and he felt another pang of longing. Why couldn't he have this? Why couldn't he just be a normal guy with a normal life who could fall for someone and have her fall back? Had he screwed up big time in another life, or something, and this was karma coming back to bite him?  
  
Of course, he couldn't say any of that to Leslie, so instead he said, "You were up early."  
  
"Yeah." She nodded. "I couldn't sleep. Too much on my mind."  
  
Ben sighed. He knew the feeling.  
  
"But getting up early did give me the time to do some helpful research," she continued.  
  
He raised an eyebrow. Of course she did research when she had insomnia.   
  
She picked up a stack of printed papers and waved them at him. "I found all your flight options for Indianapolis to Minneapolis. The first flight leaves at 7:08, so that's one's out already. And what's up with the weird departure times for flights, anyway? You'd think they could at least leave on a tenth, right? Anyway, I debated whether or not to organize them by price or by departure time, but I decided that you probably aren't thinking about pinching pennies that much right now, because what really matters is seeing your mom. So I stuck with departure time …"  
  
Ben's other eyebrow shot up as she continued to speak and his heart leapt in his chest. She'd done all this for him. She'd spent hours on it.  
  
"… and this stack is the rental car rates. Hertz has a special on sub-compacts right now, which is your best bet for both rental cost and gas-mileage," she rambled on, waving another sheaf of paper.  
  
She boggled his mind. Every little thing she did revealed a new, amazing aspect of her character. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of Leslie Knope.  
  
He cut her off mid-sentence (something about baggage-check fees) by pulling her in for a kiss.  
  
She gasped in surprise, but quickly shifted to kiss him back. The whole process was a little awkward, with a sheaf of papers in one of her hands and a half-full coffee mug in one of his. But it was also tender and sincere and real.   
  
No. He'd never get tired of this.  
  
That thought was enough to make his heart ache. God, his life sucked.  
  
When they finally parted, all he could think to say was, "Thank you." He blinked and stammered, "For—for—everything. All of this." He gestured to her stacks of papers, but he hoped she knew he meant more than just that.  
  
"You're welcome," she replied. "It was the least I could do. What really matters now is getting you home to your family. Your mom needs you."  
  
Shit. That ache in his chest was getting worse. He nodded. "Thanks. You're right. I need to go."  
  
"Get dressed," she said, patting the clothes she'd dropped on the bed. "I'll drive you back to your car at Sullivan's."  
  
"Okay." He nodded. It was for the best. He needed some time away from her to get a handle on himself.  
  
A little while later, sitting next to her in her car, he said, "I'm sorry to leave you in the lurch with the festival. But I know Chris will step up and help. He might not be your favorite person right now, but he really is good at his job. He'll do good work for you."  
  
"I know he will," she replied. "And don’t worry about the festival. Or—or anything else, right now. Just focus on your mom."  
  
He heard the tightness in her voice when she said, _"anything else."_ So it seemed she was just as anxious as him about what last night might have meant. If only he had an answer for her.  
  
When they reached his car parked on the street near Sullivan's, Leslie pulled over to let him out.  
  
"So, uh, if you have time to call me from Partridge and let me know how things are going, I'd like to hear from you." Her voice wavered nervously. "I mean, if you want to. You don't have to, or anything."  
  
Ben stood just outside the open door of her car, leaning down to look in at her. He hated seeing her uncertain. He hated knowing that he'd done that to her. Rationally, he knew that his "trip to Minnesota" would be the perfect chance to start pulling back from her. To prepare for a clean break. But she looked at him with so much anxious hope in her eyes.  
  
All he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and never let her go again.  
  
"Maybe I can call you when my plane lands. And, uh, keep you updated on things. Regularly. Would that be okay?"  
  
A smile lit up her face. "That would be great. Perfect, really. Take care of you and take care of your mom. Okay?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
He watched her drive away, and shook his head. He was an idiot.   
  
What now?  
  
***  
  
Chris was an early riser by nature. Nothing got the day off to a better start than an invigorating run or a brisk bike ride.  
  
This morning, however, he'd spent most of an hour pacing, debating whether or not to call the federal marshals.  
  
Ben never came home last night.  
  
Fear permeated Chris's chest. Had Ben done something rash, like pointing his car toward Minnesota and driving through the night? Or getting drunk and getting in a car accident? Anything could have happened. Anything at all.   
  
He glanced at the clock again. It was just past 6:30. He'd give it until seven, and if he hadn't heard from Ben by then, he'd call the marshals.  
  
Chris picked up his phone again and texted Ben for what must be the tenth time since he discovered his absence.  
  
After a few more minutes of pacing, he nearly jumped out of his shoes at the sound of a key turning in the front door lock.  
  
Ben stepped inside, looking a little worse for the wear.  
  
"Thank god!" Chris strode toward him. "I've been worried sick. Where were you?"  
  
Ben looked less than happy to see him. "Hi. Sorry. Uh—I went drinking. After you left, last night. And, uh, Leslie came to pick me up because I'd had a few too many to drive. Aaaand—" He looked down at the ground.  
  
Chris knew where he was headed before he got there, but hearing it still left a hard knot in his gut.  
  
"We, uh, went back to her place. So. That happened."  
  
Chris took a few deep breaths to steady himself. "So—at your most emotionally vulnerable, you decided to get drunk and sleep with the woman you've been infatuated with since we first got here? And you thought this was a good idea?"  
  
Ben scowled at him, tossing his keys onto the entry table and shrugging out of his jacket. "Of course it wasn't a good idea. But it happened. What's done is done."  
  
Chris closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. This was all his fault. He never should have left Ben alone last night. But, as Ben said, what was done was done. Time to deal with the consequences. "I understand," he said. "I do. However, I think I need to ask a few questions. Did you tell her anything? Anything that might compromise our cover identities?"  
  
Ben sighed, sinking down onto the sofa. "I thought you might ask that."  
  
The knot in Chris's gut got tighter. He stood anxiously in front of Ben, fighting back the urge to do jumping jacks. "And?"  
  
Ben ran his fingers through his hair and dodged Chris's gaze. "She knows that my mom is in a hospital in Minnesota. And that I have a married younger brother. And that I haven't been in contact with either of them for a while." Ben shook his head, and Chris started bouncing on his heels. "I made up some bullshit story about having a falling out with them about our consulting business, or something. I don't know."  
  
Chris hopped a few times and then switched back to pacing. "If you can't even remember what you told her, how are you supposed to keep your story straight? This is bad. This is very bad."  
  
"I think I can handle it."  
  
Chris clenched his teeth and continued to pace. Clearly, Ben could _not_ handle it.  
  
Ben leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Uh—in the interest of full disclosure, I think I need to tell you that she knows my name."  
  
Chris skidded to a halt and slowly turned to face Ben with wide eyes. "You mean—your _real_ name? How—what—?"  
  
Ben sank back into the sofa. "Did I ever tell you about my history as a teen mayor?"  
  
"What?" Chris couldn't see the relevance.  
  
"When I was eighteen I ran for mayor in my hometown in Minnesota, and I won. I was in some national papers and magazines for it, and Leslie is a compulsive scrap-booker. She'd been interested in my story, and she'd saved some of the articles. She recognized me a couple of months ago."  
  
Chris's knees suddenly felt weak. He sank onto the nearby loveseat. A sick feeling swirled in his gut. "You're telling me that Leslie Knope recognized you as Benjamin Adams two months ago, and you only now decided to tell me?"  
  
What was this horrible feeling permeating his body? Did it have a name?  
  
Ben sighed and nodded, looking a little exasperated. Not that he had any right to be. Ben was the source of the problem right now—not Chris. "Look, I knew that if I told you, you'd freak out and insist on telling Burdette and Lewis."  
  
Ben was right on that point.  
  
Before Chris could raise a rebuttal, Ben continued, "But we don't need to tell them. She hasn't googled me. She doesn't know anything about Everson or the trial. I screwed up as a teen mayor, and I got impeached. She thinks that the bullying and harassment from people in my hometown are the reason I changed my name and I haven't done anything to make her think otherwise. As far as she's concerned, Ben Adams ceased to exist seventeen years ago and I've been Ben Wyatt ever since. Plus, she promised not to tell anyone about my old name, and I trust her. Completely."  
  
As Chris pondered Ben's words, it hit him—the name for the horrible feeling welling up inside of him.   
  
Betrayal.  
  
No matter how much they'd been through together, no matter how many times he'd promised to share all important information and to be partners in their ordeal, Ben still didn't trust Chris. He still chose not to confide in him fully. Somehow he trusted a woman he'd met a mere five months ago more than he trusted the man who'd taken the leap into the unknown with him to approach the FBI with the evidence they'd uncovered.  
  
How had this happened? What had he done to alienate Ben so much?  
  
"Do you," every word out of Chris's mouth intensified the sick, painful feel of betrayal, "do you want to tell her?"  
  
Ben looked down at his hands clasped in front of him. "I do," he said softly.  
  
Chris clenched his fists. He should call Burdette and Lewis now. This very instant. Ben had no right to make these decisions for the both of them . . .  
  
But Ben wasn't finished. "That doesn't mean I'm going to." Ben shook his head. "As much as I want to tell her the truth, she doesn't deserve to be dragged into our mess. She shouldn't have to carry this burden."  
  
Chris straightened his spine and fought to gain control over the sick feeling still filling his being. "At least you have _some_ common sense left. Can you give me even one good reason why I shouldn't get on the phone right now to call the marshals?"  
  
Ben shook his head. "I can't. I've been an idiot. I know that. I have absolutely no logical, rational reasons why we shouldn't call the marshals and arrange to leave Pawnee tomorrow." Ben met Chris's eyes with a pleading expression. "But I still don't want to leave. I was wrong, and I never should have hidden this from you. But this place—Leslie and all my other friends here—they've changed me. Right now they're more important to me than anything but my family and this—this stupid trial that's ruining both of our lives. So I'm appealing to you as a friend—please. Please, don't call the marshals. We only have one more month here. I don't expect you to be happy about it—or to forgive me for keeping things from you. But I—I guess I'm asking for mercy. Please, let me have this last month. Let me stay. Please."  
  
Chris closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. His feelings of betrayal weren't any less, but Ben had struck a chord with his pleas. If Chris had been given a chance to spend one last month with Kelsey before having to part ways with her, he would have done almost anything for that chance. He shook his head and blinked back the moisture rising in his eyes before looking up again. "Damn it, Ben. You have to trust me. You can't hide things from me. This situation won't work if you feel like there are things you have to keep from me."  
  
"I know this. I really do." Ben's eyes held a gleam of desperate hope. "So here's the last thing I've been keeping from you: a few months ago I mentioned something about Everson to Leslie. But just in a general-interest-news-story kind of way. She wasn't that interested and as far as I can tell, she never googled it or read up on it at all. Really. She doesn't know anything. And even if she did, she wouldn't tell anyone. That's it. That's the last thing. I swear."  
  
Chris winced as the knot in his gut twisted a few more times. He shouldn't be doing this. He really shouldn't. "Okay."  
  
Ben sat up straighter and raised his eyebrows. "Okay? You mean—?"  
  
Chris nodded, letting out his breath slowly. Ben would've done the same for him, wouldn't he? "Yes. I won't make that phone call."  
  
Ben's face lit up. "Thank you. You have no idea. Just—thank you. I promise, I won't hold anything back again. Ever."  
  
Chris nodded, but the sick feeling inside made him doubt whether that was a promise Ben was even capable of keeping. "What are you going to do about Leslie?"  
  
"Well," Ben took a deep breath, "she doesn't have any expectations for last night to turn into something more. And she thinks I'm leaving for the next week or so to visit my mom and help her get settled back into her house. So I think I'll take off to Indianapolis for a while. Get a hotel. Watch some movies. Go to museums. Try to unwind and relax. And I'll see if I can figure out how to move things with Leslie back into more neutral territory. I'll think of something."  
  
Once again, Chris had trouble believing Ben's assertion. "I'll do whatever I can to help," he replied.  
  
One thing was certain. Getting Ben out of Pawnee for a time was absolutely the right thing to do. The sooner, the better.  
  
  
TBC


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter originally published on LiveJournal in October 2012

The first place Leslie visited after arriving at the fairgrounds Friday morning was the first-aid tent. She really needed to talk to beautiful nurse and relationship adviser Ann Perkins. Putting on her best smile she gave her friend a cheery greeting.  
  
"Hey!" replied Ann with a strained looking smile.  
  
Leslie knit her brows. "Hey—are you okay?"  
  
Ann sighed and shrugged. "I don't know. I keep thinking about that Jersey Shore boy I made out with a few days ago. I mean, I don't really like him, but it felt really good to have someone want me, after—you know."  
  
Leslie's heart sank. She knew all too well. Crap. Now she really didn't want to have to break this news to Ann.  
  
"Anyway," Ann continued, "I guess I just miss being wanted. So I couldn't sleep and stayed up late watching movies on Lifetime. I know—it was stupid."  
  
"Oh, Ann. I hate when you feel so blue! How about a hug?"  
  
Ann spread her arms and gladly accepted Leslie's embrace. "Oh, hugs from you always help," said Ann.  
  
Leslie took a deep breath and stepped."Good. Because I have something I need to tell you."  
  
Ann's smile faded a little. "What is it?"  
  
Time to rip the band-aid off. "Chris is going to be helping out for the last few days of the Harvest Festival."  
  
Ann's smile vanished completely. "Oh." She stared off into space for a moment before stuttering, "So—so—things weren't good for Ben yesterday?"  
  
Leslie opened her mouth, ready to spill all her news, but she saw the sad look in Ann's eyes and held back. No. She couldn't dump all this complicated mess on Ann right now—not when she'd just been blindsided by the prospect of working with Chris for a few days. Leslie calmed her raging Ben-thoughts and stuck to the essentials. "He's really shaken up. His mom was in a bad car accident, and it looks like she's going to be in a wheelchair for over a month. I helped him find a flight to Minneapolis and he's on his way right now to go stay with her for a few days. So Chris stepped up to help with the festival. But don't worry—he won't be around the carnival all day, and he certainly won't come hang out in the first-aid tent. So you should be okay." She practically had to bite her tongue to stop from blurting out that she and Ben slept together and _what does it mean? And did I take advantage of him? And is there any way in hell I can build a relationship off of this when he's probably only going to be around for three weeks after he gets back from Minnesota?_ No. That really wasn't what Ann needed to hear right now.  
  
"That's so hard!" said Ann. "If he has any questions about her injuries, or her rehab needs, he can totally call me."  
  
Leslie perked up. "I should have him fax us her medical charts! You'll get so much more from the charts."  
  
"I'm not sure if they'll allow that—"  
  
"Great idea, Ann! I'll text him right away. And are you sure you'll be okay with the Chris thing?"  
  
Ann nodded, a tight-lipped smile on her face. "I'll manage."  
  
Leslie left Ann with a few more words of encouragement. She felt like she was bursting at the seams with all the things she wanted to talk about. But Ann was really struggling. This break-up with Chris had thrown Ann in a way Leslie had never seen before.   
  
_Damn it! Isn't there anyone else I can talk about this with?_  
  
She strode into the administration tent only to be greeted by a cheery call of: "Leslie Knope!" with Chris pointing and smiling.  
  
Not ideal, but he'd do.  
  
She grabbed his arm and dragged him to the back corner of the tent while speaking rapidly in a low voice. "Is Ben okay? Did he book a flight?"  
  
"He's driving to Indianapolis, even as we speak," replied Chris.  
  
"Oh my god—does he have any idea how much long-term parking costs? I—No." Leslie shook her head. Minutia. Why did she always let herself get fixated on minutia when she was stressed? She took a deep break. "Whatever. Not important. Never mind. Really, I just—I just want to know if he seemed all right, to you? I mean, he had a really rough day yesterday, and—" She took a deep breath. "I hope he doesn't feel like I took advantage of him. He wasn't thinking clearly and I let things happen that maybe I shouldn't have, and stressing over what happened with me is the last thing he needs right now. Is he—upset? With me?"  
  
Chris's faced softened, and he reached out to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Leslie—Ben absolutely is _not_ upset with you."  
  
Leslie closed her eyes for a moment and nodded in relief. "Good. Good. That's good to hear."  
  
"I think he is a bit uncertain regarding the future of your relationship," Chris continued, "but I know he cares about you a great deal and he values your friendship immensely. None of that has changed."  
  
That—sounded helpful. But it wasn't. Nothing Chris had said implied that Ben was ready and eager to plunge into a long-distance relationship with her. At least he wasn't upset with her. She'd been pretty certain he wasn't, but sometimes he kept his emotions so closed in that it was hard to tell.  
  
"Okay. Great. Thanks," she said. "And thank you for helping out. I know I haven't been very kind to you lately, but I really don't hate you. It's BFF solidarity. I have to stick by my girl, you know?"  
  
Chris's expression faltered. "I understand. Really. But I hope working together again will provide an opportunity to make amends. At least a little."  
  
"It will. I'm sure of it."   
  
With the personal business concluded, Leslie switched back into work mode and led Chris over to the schedule board to help him sort out his duties for the day. She still had three days of the festival to run, and she couldn't spend them pining for Ben. Time to get back to work.  
  
***  
  
Ben checked into a comfortable hotel with good wifi, good cable tv, and an indoor pool and hot tub. So, he couldn't be with his mom who needed him. He couldn't be with the friends who cared about him. He couldn't be with the woman he—what? Wanted? Dreamed of? Longed for? But at least he could have a soft bed and entertainment at his fingertips.  
  
Naturally, he was bored and lonely after two hours.  
  
He played his part to a tee, calling Leslie about twenty minutes after the flight he'd pretended to take touched down in Minneapolis. He went to a coffee shop to make the call, so there would be background noise, and then pretended he couldn't chat long because he needed to get his bags and pick up his rental car. She wished him well and told him to fax her his mom's medical charts from the hospital so that Ann could review them and answer any questions he might have.  
  
As ridiculous as the suggestion was, he found himself wishing he could actually do it. He'd really like to get opinions on his mom's condition from someone he knew and trusted.  
  
When he hung up he felt worse than he had before the call.  
  
***  
  
Leslie didn't expect much from Ben while he was gone. He didn't owe her anything. And she was sure he'd be busy the whole time helping his mom and getting her house ready to accommodate her new wheelchair.  
  
That's why it felt so good that night when he emailed her to thank her for pushing him to come. He said his mom was shocked to see him, but also happy and relieved, and they'd had a wonderful talk that evening, working through all the stupid issues that had kept them apart.   
  
Leslie took a moment to step back from the crazy bustle of the carnival to lean against a fence and look up at the stars. With the signs of the resounding success of the festival all around her, she couldn't help but think that everything was going to be all right. She wasn't sure how, yet. But they'd figure it out.  
  
***  
  
"From what I can tell, she's buying it completely," said Ben, on the other end of the phone call. "It sucks. I spend half my day working out the lies I can tell her so I can keep this charade going, and when we talk and I hear her trusting me and supporting me, it just—I—I feel like the biggest asshole in the world."  
  
Chris sighed. He could hear the misery in his friend's voice, and he could relate. Chris had tried to approach this whole witness protection experience as an adventure—a game of sorts. But the weight of the lies and secrets was wearing him down, too. And the distance between him and Ben still felt as vast as it had that morning when Ben came home to confess his indiscretions with Leslie.  
  
Ben might have to lie to her, but at least he still had someone to lean on. Someone who cared about him, no matter what.  
  
Who did Chris have? Who?  
  
He looked up from his perch on a bench near the carousel, his eyes falling, as they had so often over the past two and a half days, on the first-aid tent.  
  
"I know this is difficult," he said to Ben, "but this is what has to be done if you want to come back to Pawnee for our final weeks before heading back to Atlanta. It's either this, or confess to the marshals that you can't keep it up any longer and have them relocate us to a safe-house somewhere far from here to wait out our final weeks."  
  
"I know. I know. That doesn't mean I have to like it," replied Ben.  
  
Neither of them liked it.  
  
Chris had been meditating during nearly all his free hours since Ben left for Indianapolis, but it only seemed to make his frustration and depression worse. "The festival wraps up tonight, and we should have all the take-down work and financial reports completed by Thursday at the latest. I could drive up that night, if you want to see a familiar face. We can talk strategy for our final weeks here."  
  
"Okay. That sounds good," said Ben. "So I guess I'll just keep things going as they are for four and a half more days. And then we'll figure out what comes next."  
  
After wrapping up the call, Chris stood and walked toward the first-aid tent. It was time to do the thing he'd been avoiding since Friday morning.  
  
He'd chosen a good moment. When he stepped into the tent, Ann and the other first-aid volunteer sat chatting by themselves. When they noticed him the conversation froze, Ann's smile falling as she stared at him with wide eyes. She may never have meant as much to him as Kelsey, but Chris _did_ genuinely care for her, and his heart ached knowing how he'd hurt her.  
  
"Ann Perkins," he said gently, forcing a smile. "It's good to see you again."  
  
"Yes. Yeah. Good to see you, too," she stammered, rising to her feet. "Do you need—can we help you?"  
  
"I was hoping we could have a private chat—just for a few moments?"  
  
Ann swallowed hard, but nodded. "Sure. We can just—over here." She gestured to one of the cots in the back of the tent, behind a privacy partition.  
  
Chris followed her back and didn't complain when she took up a stance on the other side of the cot from him.  
  
"You—look nice," he started, knowing how meaningless his words must sound to her.  
  
Immediately she clutched at the vivid red streak now running through her hair. "I didn't do this because of you."  
  
The ache in his chest intensified at the look on her face.  
  
"Ann," he said, "I feel like I owe you an apology. That's why I'm here. I led you to believe that our relationship could be something more serious than I was willing to commit to, and that was very wrong of me. I allowed myself to believe that you understood how I wanted things to be, when in my heart I knew that you didn't. I was willfully blind because I enjoyed your company and didn't want to admit that you'd be better off without me. I'm sorry. You deserve much, much better than that. And I hope you know it."  
  
"I—" Ann's mouth hung open for a moment. "I—thank you."  
  
Chris nodded. It felt good to get this off his chest. "No need to thank me. I owed you this apology. I hurt you. I betrayed you. I know—" He felt himself choking up a little. "I know what it feels like to be betrayed. To be left alone. Utterly, and completely alone. Left to face the harsh vagaries of the world in solitude, with no one to turn to for support." Chris could feel the darkness he'd been fighting to hold back well up inside of him. "We're all alone, in the end. Sent off to our fates with nothing to cling to but our own meager, weak selves. Drifting toward our doom." His eyes fixated on a dark corner of the tent where a weed struggled to survive inside the gloom.  
  
It reminded him of himself.  
  
"Chris—are you okay?"  
  
He looked up to see Ann staring at him with a puzzled expression on her face.  
  
Damn. He'd made this conversation about him, instead of about her. That was selfish of him. He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I inflicted that kind of pain on you, and it was horribly wrong of me. I hope that someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me. But for now, I understand completely if you want to continue to despise me. It's nothing more than what I deserve." He punctuated his words with a nod, and turned to leave.  
  
When he'd walked just a few steps, he heard Ann behind him. "Chris?"  
  
He turned on his heels to look back at her.  
  
"I—I forgive you. Really. I'll be fine." She smiled at him encouragingly and it warmed his heart.  
  
"Ann Perkins. You really are a gem among women."  
  
Her smile brightened. "I guess I'll be seeing you around."  
  
He nodded, his spirit feeling momentarily lighter. "See you around."  
  
***  
  
That Sunday evening, the last night of the Harvest Festival, Leslie had planned something extra special. The government shutdown over the summer had led to cancelation of the annual 4th of July fireworks. So she brought the fireworks to fall, instead.  
  
After triple and quadruple checking that the fireworks company had everything under control, and then triple checking that all the vendors were managing the lines effectively and that the crowds of families filling up Ramsett Park were settling in just fine, Leslie allowed herself to step back to the edge of the park and just breath.  
  
It had worked. All of it.   
  
The festival had succeeded beyond her wildest imaginings. Her town had embraced her project, and tourists had flocked in from towns from a hundred miles around. And her grand finale was about to go off without a hitch.  
  
As the first firework exploded with a cascade of color overhead, a tear wound its way down her cheek. Two years ago she couldn't even fill in a pit. And now look what she'd done.  
  
There was only one thing that could make it more perfect.  
  
She walked a little further from the crowd and pulled out her phone, hitting the speed-dial that she'd been using so very often for the past month.  
  
"I'm watching the fireworks," she said, when Ben answered.  
  
"How do they look?" He sounded quiet and distant. Far too distant.  
  
"They look amazing." She took a deep breath. "I wish you could be here to see them."  
  
"Me too. But I'm where I belong."  
  
She nodded. "I know. I didn't mean anything. I just—I miss you."  
  
There was a long silence, filled only by the report of shells propelling toward the sky and the gasps and cheers of the crowd.  
  
"I miss you, too. A lot."  
  
Leslie's throat felt tight, and tears welled in her eyes again as she watched the bursts of red and white overhead. She tried to make her voice sound as normal as possible when she spoke again. "Is everything ready for the big move?"  
  
"Almost. I need to rearrange the furniture a little more in the morning, just to make sure mom has clearance to get around in the wheelchair once she gets home. But her new bedroom on the main floor is all set up and ready to go. She's going to hate it—but it's ready."  
  
Leslie laughed. "Well, maybe it'll give her incentive to get better faster."  
  
"I hope so."  
  
Leslie lapsed into silence again as a cluster of purple and blue explosions lit the sky.  
  
Ben spoke. "You should go. We can talk tomorrow. This is your night. Enjoy it."  
  
"It's yours as much as it is mine," she replied. "It's ours. The whole festival. I never could have done it without you."  
  
"Thank you. Really. It means a lot."  
  
"You're welcome. Take good care of your mom, okay?"  
  
"Always."  
  
"I'll talk to you tomorrow."  
  
"Talk to you then."  
  
Leslie bit her lip as she hung up. So this was what it would be like, if she decided to pursue this relationship. Lots of phone calls and longing. Too many days of not seeing his face or touching his skin.  
  
Could she really do this?  
  
She stared up at the fireworks and tried not to think about it. Not tonight. She'd figure it out later.  
  
***  
  
Ben had never thought of himself as a good liar. Becoming an FBI informant had been like jumping into deep water headfirst without knowing how to swim. Witness protection had refined his newfound lying-skills. And his stay in Indianapolis was his finishing thesis to prove his expertise.  
  
Over the first few days of his pretend stay in Minnesota he had, under the guise of being a writer conducting research for his latest book, spoken with nurses, doctors, home health care agencies, medical device retailers and rehabilitation specialists. In short, he'd done exactly the sort of legwork that he would have done if he'd actually been in Partridge working to help his mom.  
  
Only, in this case, he did it all for another woman.  
  
In all of his conversations with Leslie he tried to keep the talk focused on her—on the Harvest Festival. On her plans for the department now that she'd more than met their financial goals. On anything and everything except the elaborate lies he'd spent so much time concocting. But eventually she'd always start asking how his mom was doing today. What was next on his agenda for the house? Had he found a good physical therapist yet? And on and on.  
  
So with every passing day his guilt grew. He fixated on wondering who might actually be doing all these tasks for his mom. Maybe his Aunt Sharon had stepped up. Or his mom's best friend Melanie. Perhaps he should write a report on everything he'd learned and see if Burdette would smuggle it through federal marshal channels to get to his mom. Then maybe he wouldn't feel so helpless.  
  
But on a day to day basis, what hurt the most was having to lie like this to Leslie. Having to build one deception on top of another just to keep pulling the blinders over her eyes when what he really wanted to do was shout the truth and see what happened.  
  
She was just so _good_. Even knowing that he'd been lying for a noble purpose, would she ever really be able to forgive him for this? He was starting to doubt.  
  
All the stress and uncertainty set him on edge. He could hardly sleep and he'd had two panic attacks in the week since he'd left Pawnee. By the time Chris finally rolled into town Thursday night, Ben felt almost ready to explode.  
  
He and Chris sat down across from each other on hard hotel chairs, and Ben ran his fingers through his hair, tugging hard at the roots. "I don't know if I can keep doing this. I don’t think I have it in me."  
  
Chris tapped his fingers on the table. "So—do you want to have me tell everyone back in Pawnee that you've decided to stay with your mother until the Atlanta job? I'm certain they'd believe the story. It seems very natural."  
  
Leave it to Chris to propose the one plan that made perfect sense, yet hurt him to his core.  
  
Ben tried to imagine a world in which he didn't go back. One where his only good-byes to Leslie and his other friends happened over the phone. And—if the trial went badly—one in which he'd never see her again.  
  
The thoughts were enough to stir up nausea in his gut and anxious jitters in the rest of his body. He shook his head. "No. I have to go back. I need—I need a chance to say good-bye in person."  
  
Chris nodded slowly. "All right. I understand. So, how do you want to orchestrate your return?"  
  
Ben jiggled his knee with nervous energy. "I'm ready to head back tonight. I can't deal with this isolation anymore."  
  
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea. What will you say when people ask why you didn't stay with you mother through the weekend?"  
  
Crap. Ben rubbed his face. Once again, Chris was the one thinking clearly. "Fine. Fine. I'll stay through Sunday. But I'm heading back to Pawnee Sunday night. I can't take it any longer than that." The prospect of three more days in this deception-filled quarantine made him want to throw something, but staying through Sunday would certainly work better with his cover.  
  
"That sounds ideal. You can come back to work on Monday, and we can spend our last three weeks in Pawnee generating some final financial guidelines for the next fiscal year, to keep all the departments on track for reasonable spending. It'll be good to finish what we started."  
  
Ben nodded, staring at the bland hotel art hanging across from him. Chris's idea of finishing what they'd started clearly differed from his.  
  
"Huh," Ben said, something suddenly occurring to him.  
  
"What?" Chris raised his eyebrows.  
  
"I just realized that Sunday is Halloween." Ben shrugged. "It just seems fitting. I'll be putting my disguise back on right in time for the holiday."  
  
Chris tapped his fingers on his knees and gave Ben a serious look. "You _will_ just be coming back to Pawnee to say good-bye, won't you? You won't be pursuing any further relationship with Leslie?"  
  
This was the very question Ben had been struggling with all week. Every time he talked to her he felt utterly comfortable and welcome. She was the person he wanted to share his day with, and the last person he wanted to say good-night to at the end of the day. But every time he got off the phone, he felt like the biggest asshole in the world for building that relationship on a web of deceit. She knew parts of him, but never the whole man. Never the full truth. And far too many lies.  
  
He owed it to her to break it off now, before things got any deeper. She deserved the freedom to find someone who could be honest with her and who could be there for her. Not someone who was about to disappear for who knows how many months.  
  
Yet, every night when he closed his eyes, he could see her face. At the worst possible moments his mind would drift back to the way her neck curved down into her shoulders, or the shadowy curve of her breasts in the moonlight. The way she gasped when he touched her just so. The sound of her laugh. The way she'd held his hand and rubbed his back while he was having a panic attack at the fairgrounds. The sparkle of her blue eyes in the sunshine. The way she never, ever, ever gave up, no matter what the odds.  
  
"Ben—you know you can't lead her to believe that you can be in a long-distance relationship. That would cross the line. You _do_ know that. Don't you?" Chris looked at him earnestly.  
  
Ben's heart ached in his chest. Chris was right. That would be one lie too many.  
  
Ben nodded. "I know."  
  
***  
  
With the end of the festival, Leslie suddenly found a large chunk of her mind freed up to think about other things.  
  
Right now, that wasn't such a good thing. Inevitably, her mind would drift to Ben. He still texted several times a day, and they'd talked every day of his absence. He was still easier to talk to than anyone in her life except Ann, and their phone conversations were almost enough to make her believe that a long-distance relationship could work. Almost.  
  
There was still the unfortunate matter of physical distance. Now, with all her extra mental space, she found herself growing increasingly physically anxious. Sure, she'd only been with Ben one night. But it had been a pretty emotionally intense encounter and it had definitely left her wanting more.  
  
It was one thing to feel that kind of need when she was single. A good romantic movie and her battery operated friend could take care of that. But what about when her need was directed at one specific person and that person was hundreds of miles away? She didn't know all the details of his financial situation, but she was pretty certain he couldn't exactly afford weekly trips back to Indiana—especially with all the help he was giving his mom. And regular trips to Atlanta would put a significant strain on her own finances. She'd probably have to dip into her emergency fund to manage it, and she wasn't sure if she felt comfortable classifying long distance booty-calls as "emergencies."  
  
It didn't seem fair. Every time she met someone that she thought she could be happy with, they moved away. What had she done to deserve this?  
  
Receiving her public commendation from Paul on Friday afternoon was a nice distraction.  
  
"How's your heart doing?" she asked Paul at the reception after the press conference.  
  
Paul sighed. "Not as good as my doctor would like. The medication and dietary changes are helping, but he's worried it might be too little too late. He's suggested the possibility of preventative surgery."  
  
Leslie widened her eyes. "Oh god—I didn't know it was that bad."  
  
Paul nodded glumly. "But it could've been worse. I actually owe you one for putting on that 5K. If I hadn't nearly collapsed after the run, I never would have visited a cardiologist in the first place. I wouldn't have known anything was wrong until I had a heart attack."  
  
They chatted for a few more minutes about his course of treatments before parting ways. Leslie knew it wasn't very charitable, but it really did help her feel good to see that other people's problems were so much worse than her own.  
  
She really needed some girl time to unwind. Ann had been working extra shifts all week to make up for the time she took off to volunteer at the Harvest Festival, and Leslie missed her like crazy. In the middle of all the busy festival stuff and then Ann's full work schedule they hadn't had time for a good talk in almost two weeks.  
  
Fortunately, Ann had managed to get Halloween night off, and they were planning on spending it together. Just two girlfriends kicking back. Relaxing. Eating candy. Oh—and spying on that little punk Greg Pikitis.  
  
It would be the perfect Halloween.  
  
  
TBC


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter originally published on LiveJournal in October 2012

Leslie knew her revelation had been too abrupt when Ann started choking on her mouthful of Smarties.  
  
The two of them sat eating candy in the front seats of Leslie's car, parked around the corner and strategically concealed behind some shrubs from the statue of Mayor William Percy in Ramsett Park.  
  
In theory Leslie had brought the bags of candy to pass out to the crowds of trick-or-treaters in the neighborhood. But when Ann pointed out that parents might not take kindly to two black-clad strangers luring kids to their car with candy, Leslie had deferred to her wisdom. Besides, it was better to keep the candy for themselves.  
  
After taking a minute to catch her breath and washing her Smarties down with a few gulps from her water bottle, Ann glared at Leslie. "You slept with Ben ten days ago, and you never told me?!"  
  
When Ann put it like that, Leslie did feel a little foolish. "Well, with the festival and then all your extra shifts plus the stuff with Chris, I didn't want to bug you with this."  
  
Ann shook her head. "No. I'm your best friend. When stuff like this happens, _bug me._ "  
  
And that was why Leslie loved her so much. "So I officially have your permission to bug you about big stuff, even when you're stressed?"  
  
"Yes. Absolutely."  
  
"I'm gonna hold you to that." Leslie pointed at Ann with her Tootsie Roll. "But you can do the same back."  
  
"It's a deal." Ann smiled and plucked a mini Kit Kat out of the candy bag. "Now spill. What happened? I need details."  
  
Leslie quickly ran through the events of that crazy night, occasionally glancing down at her phone to check for new texts.  
  
"So, that's what happened," she said, finishing her story.  
  
"Wow." Ann shook her head. "I always thought you two would fall into each other's arms after watching a documentary on the founding fathers, or something. This is lot sexier."  
  
Leslie grinned. Though, now that she thought about it, a documentary on the founding fathers sounded like a pretty sexy option.   
  
"So, how was it?" Ann prodded.  
  
"Well, it wasn't mind blowing or anything, considering he was an emotional wreck and pretty tipsy. But it was still really, really nice. And if he can manage really, really nice while he's a tipsy wreck, there's a high probability of it being pretty freaking awesome when he has all his wits about him." Leslie felt herself getting a little warmer at the thought. She'd been trying not to dwell on it, but now that she could finally talk about it, it was hard not to speculate.  
  
"Wow," said Ann, taking another bite of her Kit Kat and shaking her head. "I was honestly starting to think this would never happen. So do you think you're going to try to be _together_ , now? I mean, the two of you have been talking all the time while he's been in Minnesota. Does that mean you're dating?"  
  
Leslie frowned. These were the very questions she'd been contemplating for more than a week. "We have been talking a lot, but it was like, 90% friend-type stuff, and only about ten percent stuff that might have maybe been a little romantic."  
  
"But you haven't actually talked about it?" Ann's eyebrows rose.  
  
"No." Leslie sighed. "I didn't want to pressure him while he's dealing with all this stuff for his mom. Besides, I'm not really sure what I want this to be. I mean, I think that I want to be with him, but I'm not sure if we can actually manage it."  
  
"It is tough." Ann nodded. "I mean, he'll only be in Pawnee for what, three and a half more weeks before he leaves for Atlanta? You only know each other as friends, not as a couple, which is completely different. And three weeks doesn't seem like enough time."  
  
"No. It doesn't. And who knows how many thousands of dollars we'll have to spend on plane tickets to find out for sure whether or not this thing between us will actually work? On the other hand, if logistics is the only reason not to be together, that seems like a really crappy reason not to at least try, right?" This was the conversation Leslie had been waiting a week and a half to have, and it felt so good to get this off of her chest.  
  
"True," replied Ann, as Leslie glanced down at her latest texts, "but the other thing you've got to think about is whether or not Ben is even capable of taking on a relationship right now, let alone a long distance one. He'll still be spending lots of time and money helping his mom over the next few months, which means less time for you. Plus, isn't he still dealing with some anxiety issues?" Ann grimaced. "I hate to say it, because I know how much you like him, but this is starting to look like a disaster waiting to happen."  
  
Suddenly the candy in Leslie's mouth didn't taste so good anymore. "Oh god. I don't know what to do."  
  
She'd been virtually certain that she wanted to give the relationship a try, but longer she and Ann talked the more enormous the potential downsides started to seem. She and Ann continued to dissect the complexities of the situation as they kept an eye on the statue.  
  
After several more minutes Leslie looked down at her phone again.  
  
Ann scowled. "Please tell me you haven't been texting Ben through our whole conversation."  
  
"Just once, when he texted to let me know he was back in Indy," replied Leslie. "The rest of the time I've been texting Mrs. Pikitis."  
  
"You mean the mom of the kid we're hoping to bust?"  
  
"Yeah. She's in it with us tonight. Greg got in trouble earlier this week, so he's grounded to his room tonight. She's been checking on him every fifteen minutes to make sure he's staying put, and texting me with updates."  
  
Ann's jaw dropped. "Then what's the point of this whole stake-out? We could've been at a party or a club instead of stuck here. What were you thinking?"  
  
Ann sounded legitimately angry. Leslie would just have to explain things better. "First, we haven't had any good girl-talk time lately, so I thought this would be a perfect chance to get some. Second, that kid is the devil incarnate, and he very well could slip out his bedroom window any second and be here to wreak havoc. I am _not_ letting my guard down just because he's grounded."  
  
Ann shook her head. "Fine. Whatever."  
  
Leslie suddenly felt more than a little guilty about roping Ann into this. "Hey—at least the girl talk is fun, right?"  
  
Ann's smile was a little strained, but she nodded. "Yeah. It is."  
  
"So, it's your turn. Have you talked to Chris again since that weird apology he gave you?"  
  
"Just once," replied Ann, "and he still seemed really off. I'm kind of worried about him."  
  
They talked about Ann's ever-evolving Chris feelings for several more minutes when Leslie's phone rang.  
  
It was Mrs. Pikitis. "Leslie here," she said, answering immediately.  
  
Her eyes went wide, and then narrowed again as Mrs. Pikitis shared her news. The time had come for Leslie to prove herself. "Don't worry. I'll find him, and I'll stop him."  
  
"I know you will," replied Mrs. Pikitis. "And don't hesitate to call the cops. I'm starting to think that a night in jail might be only way to scare him straight."  
  
"Don't worry. I'll do what's necessary." Not that she would have hesitated for an instant to call the cops. But it still felt nice to have his mom's permission.  
  
She turned off her phone and turned to Ann. "We have a code red, Ann. Pikitus has flown the coop."  
  
"Seriously?"   
  
Leslie nodded. "His mom said that she found an inflatable sex doll in his bed where he should have been, and no sign of Greg. She's not sure when he snuck out because the last time she saw him awake was about an hour ago. He could be out there right now!" She jabbed her finger toward the statue, and then scrambled to lean over her seat and dig through the sack of supplies sitting just behind her. After a moment she found what she was looking for.  
  
"Time to break out the serious gear," she said, raising a metal tube to her eye and flipping the switch.  
  
"What's that?" asked Ann.  
  
"A night vision scope," replied Leslie. "Ron lent it to me just for this occasion." She scanned the park intently. The area around the statue was still clear, but she thought she could detect signs of movement on the edge of the park.  
  
She watched as several figures drew closer, and clenched her jaw in determination. She might not be able to figure out her crazy love life, but at least she could stop her arch enemy from desecrating a beloved public monument. "It's him. And I think he's holding spray paint. Time to move."  
  
First she hit the speed dial to the police station and reported the incident. Harriet, the dispatcher, was expecting her call, and agreed to send a patrol car over right away. But Leslie knew they wouldn't make it in time to stop Pikitis from busting out that spray paint.  
  
"Suit up, Ann," she said, pulling the hood of her black hoodie jacket over her head and tying the draw strings under her chin. "Nothing stands between Pikitis and utter chaos other than us."  
  
Leslie led Ann on a stealthy approach, circling around behind Pikitis and his pals. While the three laughing juvenile delinquents were distracted shaking up their spray paint, Leslie caught Ann's gaze and silently held up three fingers, wordlessly counting down.  
  
As Leslie dropped her third finger, she and Ann sprang into action, dashing forward with vicious war cries. "Get him!"  
  
Later, Leslie wasn't sure she could remember all the details of those chaotic moments. All she knew was that in midst of shouting and running she somehow ended up sitting on Pikitis' back while Ann tackled and pinned one of his henchmen nearby. The third goon must have made a clean break. But Leslie didn't care. She'd foiled her nemesis once again. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She hadn't felt this elated since the first day of the Harvest Festival. Leslie cackled in triumph as she spotted police lights approaching. "Busted! I got you this time, Pikitis! Ha!"  
  
"You're insane, Knope! Get off of me!" Pikitis struggled in vain. There was no way Leslie was giving up this prize.  
  
A few minutes and considerable shouting of accusations later, the police hauled Pikitis and his compatriot away.   
  
"We did it!" Ann cheered, offering Leslie a high five. "I kind of thought you were crazy, at first, but oh my god—that was such a rush."   
  
"I know, right?" answered Leslie, still breathing hard from the exhilaration. It was as if everything was getting clear in her mind. Boyfriends came and went, but her town and her friends—they were what lasted. They were what mattered the most. "See, we don't need boyfriends to make ourselves feel good. We don't need boyfriends to kick serious ass and stop evil in its tracks. All we need is each other."  
  
Ann laughed and pulled her in for a warm hug. "You're the best. You're totally the superhero of Pawnee. And this was awesome. But you know what else would be awesome? Going back to your place with the rest of that candy and getting a little drunk. Or a lot drunk. Yeah—a lot drunk."  
  
Leslie laughed back. "You're on."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben made it back to Pawnee just before ten that night, but he didn't text Leslie about his "plane landing" until almost ten forty-five. If she thought he was back in Pawnee, she'd probably want to see him, and he wasn't ready. He didn't feel prepared to hand down a rejection yet—or (though he couldn't decide if this option was better or worse), have her hand down a rejection to him.  
  
Chris greeted him at the door with a warm hug and a bowl of mini-boxes of raisins which he'd been handing out to trick-or-treaters. The bowl was still mostly full (word about the raisins must have spread fast).  
  
Once Ben deposited his bags up in his room and returned to the living room, Chris confronted him with a serious expression on his face. It seemed there was no getting out of unpleasant conversations tonight, no matter how much Ben wanted too.  
  
"So," said Chris, as they sat across from each other, "let's review the game plan. For the next three and a half weeks our primary focus will be on leaving final financial plans in place for all city departments."  
  
Ben nodded. Chris was right about this, at least. He'd hate for Pawnee to slip back into its old disastrous spending habits after all the work he and Chris had done. "Yep. That's our number one." In some ways it was comforting. Numbers were the one thing he never screwed up.  
  
"And our secondary goal," Chris continued, "should be to bring closure to our relationships here in Pawnee. It's time to start breaking ties and bidding farewell to all the wonderful people we've met here."  
  
Ben squeezed his eyes shut. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was bring closure to his relationships in Pawnee. One relationship in particular. But, as he well knew, sometimes doing the right thing required sacrifice.  
  
Damn it.  
  
Why did he always have to be the good guy?  
  
He tried to lose himself by popping in a disc from the Star Trek: The Next Generation complete series boxed set that he'd treated himself to while in Indy, but by midnight he still wasn't tired and felt as discontent and antsy as ever.  
  
A quick scan of the fridge revealed that not only were they completely out of beer, but also that they had no food whatsoever other than lettuce, odd-shaped fruit, and soy milk. Blech.  
  
Well, a trip to the grocery store was as good a way as any to distract him from his wallowing.  
  
While he filled his cart with essentials at the store, his phone started chiming as a string of text messages came in. Puzzled as to who could be texting him so enthusiastically at this late hour, Ben pulled the phone out of his pocket.  
  
"I took down my nemesis tonight," read the first text from Leslie.  
  
Ben smiled and started to scroll through the other texts as a few more popped up.  
  
"pikitis. remember that punk? tackled him in the act of vandalism"  
  
"seriously tackled him"  
  
"he whined like a baby"  
  
"I am the dark knight of pawnee"  
  
Ben started chuckling. Leslie had already told him the tales of Pikitis's history of Halloween mayhem. Sounded like this year he'd met his match. And it also sounded like Leslie'd had a little too much sugar—and maybe some alcohol to boot.   
  
"ann was my sidekick," the texts continued.  
  
"dont tell her i called her a sidekick"  
  
"she did kick ass but i was clearly the leader"  
  
"and we didnt need any men to save pawnee"  
  
"NO MEN"  
  
Those last two texts made Ben raise an eyebrow. What was she getting at? Was he about to get dumped via text? Not that she could really dump him—they weren't actually dating. God—why did he even care? He was already planning on telling her they couldn't be together.  
  
But he did care. He cared too much.  
  
He moved on to the next text as he rolled his cart toward the bakery section.  
  
"the cops were men"  
  
"i value the service of our local law enforcement"  
  
He started smiling again. So no rejections. At least, not tonight.  
  
"but they never could have foiled this crime without me," continued another text.  
  
"just saying"  
  
"i think im drunk"  
  
"see you tomorrow"  
  
Ben shook his head. Good lord, the things this woman did to him. His whole spirit felt lighter. He wasn't going to think about rejection anymore tonight. Just about how lucky he'd been to know her—even if just for a few months.  
  
When he rolled his cart through the bakery section, his eyes riveted on a display of Halloween-themed treats. Sitting front and center was a tray of brownies decorated with icing in the shape of the Bat-signal.  
  
Brownies and Batman—the perfect gift for the Dark Knight of Pawnee.   
  
He picked up the tray and added it to his cart.  
  
Ben didn't head home when he started driving. It was a bad idea. A terrible idea. But he couldn't stop staring at that tray of Bat-brownies sitting in the passenger seat next to him. And Leslie had texted him just ten minutes ago. She was probably still up.  
  
Terrible idea or not, he headed straight for Leslie's house.  
  
His heart leaped when he saw the lights still on. Even Leslie didn't sleep with the lights on. In fact, she didn't sleep much at all.  
  
He pulled over and took a few deep breaths.  
  
What was he doing? Showing up like this was the exact opposite of his plan.  
  
He closed his eyes and gripped the steering wheel. _I should turn around and drive home right now. That would be the smart thing to do._  
  
But he didn't feel very smart at the moment.  
  
With a burst of courage and stupid rebellion against his rotten lot in life, he turned off his engine and got out of the car. Just as he reached back in for the brownies, he noticed something that had escaped his attention during his inner debate—Ann's car was parked in the driveway.  
  
 _Crap._  
  
He couldn't go up to the door with Ann in there, having whatever kind of drunk girl-talk she and Leslie were caught up in.  
  
With a shake of his head and a sigh, he slid back into his seat.  
  
He drove home feeling both disappointed and relieved. What had he been expecting, anyway? One last night of passion before calling it off? What good would that have done for either of them?  
  
No. They were better off this way.  
  
Yet, his heart still ached.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Leslie left Ann asleep on the couch where they'd both crashed around two in the morning after coming down from their sugar-high and sharing a bottle and a half of wine. Though it was barely dawn, Leslie couldn't sleep any more. Instead, she started a pot of coffee and went upstairs to shower.  
  
She felt emotionally drained. Last night everything had seemed so clear. Ann and her other friends were all she needed—why pursue an almost-certain-to-fail relationship with Ben when she had so many other sources of fulfillment in her life?  
  
But now, with a headache stabbing between her eyes and the hot water washing away her stupor, her doubts came flooding back. So many things about Ben felt so very right. She hadn't been this compatible with a man in—well—a very long time. Maybe ever.  
  
Yet it all came back to logistics. All the logistics would make it so damn hard.   
  
Nothing about this felt fair.  
  
Leslie tried to put it out of her mind and focus on all the work she still had ahead of her to re-launch the community education program. Now that the money from the success of the Harvest Festival had overflowed the Parks budget, they had more than enough to reinstate that program and more. She'd have a pretty full plate for the rest of the year and into the next. That's what she needed to think about. Not the man that was leaving Pawnee in three and a half weeks.  
  
Sure, later today she'd have to find a way to return him to the "strictly friends" zone without hurting him in the process. Or hurting herself. Damn.  
  
But she had more important concern. Much more important. At least, that's what she was determined to believe.  
  
Ann didn't stir until Leslie was dressed and ready for the day and sipping on her third cup of coffee.  
  
"God, what time is it?" Ann moaned.  
  
"Seven forty-five. I was just getting ready to leave. But you can go back to sleep. You're working the swing shift today, remember?"  
  
Ann nodded and rubbed her eyes. "Yeah. Thank god."  
  
Leslie smiled at her friend. "Thanks again for last night. It really helped me get all that pent-up tension out of my system."  
  
"Anytime," replied Ann with a sleepy smile. "Are you gonna be okay with all the Ben-stuff today?"  
  
Leslie sighed and nodded. "Yeah. It won't be fun. But you're right. You're absolutely right. There's no way a long-distance relationship would work out, and I just need to accept that and move on."  
  
"I know it sucks," replied Ann, "but it's totally better to get it over with now instead of dragging things out, like I did with Chris. I don't want to see you get hurt like that."  
  
"Oh, Ann, you beautiful cuddly koala bear, thank you, thank you, thank you. I'm sure I'll be all right." With a best friend like Ann, how could she not be?  
  
What Leslie hadn't counted on was the impact actually seeing him again would have on her. She walked up to the city management offices mid-morning to welcome him back, and when he saw her his face lit up with a smile that made her heart race.  
  
He immediately stood up and walked over to greet her. She wasn't sure who hugged whom, but damn, it felt good to have his arms wrapped around her. Crap. This was going to be even harder than she'd expected, wasn't it?  
  
They chatted for a few minutes in the easy way only good friends can chat about nothing in particular without feeling bored or uncomfortable. They could still have this, Leslie reminded herself. Keeping a long distance friendship was still possible. And it would be worth it—even if it meant occasional pangs of regret that they'd never been something more.  
  
"Hey, do you want to grab some lunch in an hour or two?" she asked.  
  
"Um—uh—I—I think I'm going to work through lunch, today," he said, his eyes dodging her gaze. "I've got a lot of catch up work to do. But—but—swing by later. We do need to talk."  
  
Leslie nodded, feeling relieved that she could put off the inevitable a little longer. "Sure. See you later."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben swallowed hard when Leslie left his office.  
  
He didn't want to go through with this. As much as he'd tried to talk himself into it, he couldn't make himself want to let go. Yes, it was selfish to cling to her like this. Selfish to want to drag her into his problems and make her a part of his life—his _real_ life. But that's what he wanted.  
  
Which was probably why it was the last thing he should do.  
  
Damn it.  
  
He managed to focus on his work for most of the rest of the day, but the weight of his decision sat on his shoulders, growing heavier by the hour.  
  
Leslie stopped by again just before five, and the sight of her smile immediately made him feel lighter.  
  
He made small talk about her new Parks projects for a few minutes, trying to avoid getting to the subject that must be on her mind as much as it was on his. Fortunately, he had one more delay tactic. "Hey—I got you something."  
  
Her eyebrows rose. "Really?"  
  
He walked over to the file cabinets at the side of his desk and pulled a flat box off the top, turning to display the contents to Leslie. "It's some Bat-brownies!" he said with exaggerated enthusiasm. "I was at the store when I got your texts last night, and I saw these and thought that the hero of Pawnee deserved a little reward."  
  
Her smile wavered a little, and, even more surprising, moisture welled in her eyes. "Oh, they're perfect." Her voice quivered a little.  
  
Was she actually getting emotional over brownies? That wasn't the reaction he'd been hoping for.  
  
"And they're from Anderson's Market," she said. "They make really good brownies at Anderson's." Her voice still shook a little.  
  
"Um—Leslie, are you okay?"  
  
"Fine. Fine. I just—I just remembered I have a meeting I have to get to."  
  
"At ten 'til five?"   
  
"Yes." She nodded. "It's a very big, important meeting. And I'm going to be late. So—uh—thanks for the brownies." She took the box from his hands. "They're great. Thank you. But I've got to run."  
  
Before she could scurry out of the room, he said, "Wait—uh—can we get together later? For dinner or something?"  
  
She froze and took a few breaths before answering. "I can't. Tonight. I've got a thing. With Ann. But—uh—how about lunch tomorrow?"  
  
He sighed. Great. One more night of torture before he could get this over with. "Yeah. Lunch tomorrow sounds great."  
  
"Okay. See you then." With that, she escaped into the hall.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie made it to the hospital by 5:21, which was something of a record for her, considering she got in her car at 5:09.  
  
"Ann!" she called out when she spotted her friend down the hall.  
  
Ann scrunched up her forehead and put on a sympathetic smile as Leslie approached her. "Hey," said Ann. "So, was the rejection hard? Did he not take it very well?"  
  
Ugh. "I couldn't go through with it," Leslie confessed. "He looked so cute, and so happy to see me, and he bought me Batman brownies. I just couldn't do it."  
  
Ann turned down the corners of her mouth. "Leslie—I thought you agreed that any relationship was doomed and it was best to stop things in their tracks right now, before you got in any deeper. How does cuteness or brownies change that?  
  
"They were _Batman brownies,_ Ann," replied Leslie. Honestly, sometimes Ann didn't catch onto the important details.  
  
"It doesn't matter what kind of brownies they were," said Ann, shaking her head. "He's still leaving, isn't he?"  
  
Crap. It always came down to this, didn't it? "Yes."  
  
"And you're staying right here in Pawnee."  
  
Leslie sighed. "Yes."  
  
Ann held her hands out in front of her. "Then that's all there is to it."  
  
Leslie leaned back against the reception counter. This discussion kept going in the same circle over and over and over again. She nodded glumly.  
  
Ann leaned next to her. "Hey—you know I'm only trying to help, right? I just don't want you getting caught up in something that won't ever go anywhere, like I did with Chris. I don't want to see you get hurt."  
  
"I know. But it already hurts. Every time I think about him moving away, my whole chest gets tight and my head starts aching and everything sucks." Leslie tipped her head to rest it on Ann's shoulder. "I really, really care about him, and I don't want him to leave. But it's not like I can ask him to stay for me—he really needs the job, especially now that he's helping to pay for his mom's home-healthcare. And I certainly can't go with him. My life is here."  
  
"Have you really been thinking about asking Ben to stay?"   
  
"I guess I have been," replied Leslie. She'd kept it to herself because it was so selfish and immature. It's not like Ben owed her any kind of loyalty. Not after the crazy up and down not-quite-more-than-friendship they'd had. "I know, it's silly."  
  
"No," Ann shook her head. "It's not silly. Not if that's how you really feel. I guess I never realized before now how serious you are about him."  
  
Leslie lifted her head and stood up straight. She needed to start acting like a grown-up. "I shouldn't be. We've known each other for less than six months, and for almost half that time we were fighting. It's ridiculous. I'm acting like a love-sick teenager."  
  
"Leslie, love can _be_ ridiculous sometimes. I mean, I let Andy move in with me after dating for less than two months, and we were together for almost three years after that. Sometimes things can happen really fast, whether we want it or plan it or not."  
  
Leslie pondered Ann's words. There was no way she would have wanted or planned to fall for one of the men brought in to tear apart her city's budget. But she had. She'd fallen hard, and she couldn't deny it.  
  
"Look," Ann rested her hand on Leslie's shoulder, "I'm sorry I've been pressuring you to stay out of a relationship with Ben. I guess I was thinking more about what happened with me and Chris, and I was projecting it onto you. Like I expected Ben to hurt you the way Chris hurt me. But Ben isn't Chris."  
  
Leslie shook her head. "No, he isn't."  
  
"So maybe you should tell him how you feel. Take a chance and put it all on the line. Maybe you'll find out he feels the same way, and maybe that means the long-distance thing actually has a shot at working. I don't want to you miss out on something that's potentially great just because I told you not to."  
  
Butterflies danced in Leslie's stomach, and her heart raced. Could she really do it? Could she really take a leap of faith like this?  
  
Ann held her gaze. "Well?"  
  
What the hell. Go big or go home, right? Just like she'd told Andy. Time to see if she could walk the talk. She nodded resolutely. "Okay. I'm gonna do it. We have a lunch date tomorrow. And I'll put it all out there, and see what happens."  
  
"Yay!" Ann grinned. "I know you can do it. I'm rooting for you. And if he hurts you, I'll beat him senseless with a baseball bat."  
  
Leslie hugged her friend. "Aww, you're the best friend ever."  
  
"I know."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
As Ben strode toward the Parks Department to meet Leslie for their lunch date, he felt like a man heading for his own execution.  
  
He had to let her go. He had to let her get on with her life. She didn't deserve to be dragged into his problems.  
  
He'd been repeating that mantra to himself since yesterday evening when he gave her the brownies. He wasn't sure if it had helped.  
  
The radiant smile she gave him when she saw him didn't help any, either.  
  
They kept things simple and bought some sandwiches at the commissary and took them to the little park neighboring city hall to eat. He was glad it was warm enough for it—he didn't want to do this in a restaurant where they'd feel trapped, or in the courtyard where they'd feel exposed to the gaze of all their friends and colleagues.  
  
They sat on a bench angled to look at a small fountain, and Leslie asked him about his mom again. He was so sick of spinning elaborations around those particular lies that he turned the conversation away as quickly as possible by asking for more details on her Halloween night exploits. It was fun to listen to her wax poetic about the paramount evil of Greg Pikitis, and to not-so-humbly recount her own role in taking him down. Ben wished he could've been there to see it.  
  
After they finished their sandwiches, Ben took a deep breath to brace himself for what he had to do. "So, I think we need to talk about—well—us. And the future."  
  
"Yes. I agree." Leslie nodded.  
  
"Um, okay, can I go first?" He really couldn't get through this if he had to listen to Leslie's side of things first. It didn't matter whether she planned on rejecting him—or something else. Neither option would make this any more palatable. Neither would make him feel any better.   
  
No. It was better to take control of this himself, and just get through it.  
  
"Yes—yeah. Sure. Go ahead." She looked nervous. Damn it.  
  
Ben looked down at his hands clenched together in his lap. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes right now. "So, I've been doing a lot of thinking about us. And about that night."  
  
"Yeah. Me too."  
  
Lord. He had to be strong. He had to get through this.  
  
"I—I guess what I've been thinking is that I like you. A lot."  
  
"I like you a lot, too." She had that radiant smile on her face again.  
  
Crap. _Don't look at her. Don't look at her._ "But," he said, a little too loudly, "my life is in a really crazy place right now. The move and my panic issues were bad enough, but now with all this stuff with my mom. . . I—I—I just don't feel like I have it in me to be in a relationship right now."  
  
There. He'd said it.  
  
Leslie's shoulders slumped, and her head drooped a little.  
  
Shit. This was why he wasn't supposed to look at her. "I'm—I'm sorry."  
  
"No. It's okay. I understand. Really, I do. I kind of expected this, actually." She didn't sound like she'd expected it. Her voice shook a little as she spoke. "I mean, you have so much on your plate right now. So . . ."  
  
"I do. I do," he muttered, feeling like an asshole. Again. He had to do something. To say _something_. "I don't want you to think this has anything to do with you. You're great. Amazing. You're one of the best people I've ever known. Really. I just—I care about you too much to pull you into a relationship that I can't fully commit to. That wouldn't be fair to you. You deserve better than that." He shook his head. Crap. Now his own voice was getting rough with emotion. _Get it together, man._ "You deserve so much more than I can give you right now. And I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."  
  
Leslie looked off at the fountain. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but she didn't look happy. From the glint of moisture in her eyes, he was pretty sure she hadn't planned on rejecting him, today.  
  
He kind of hated himself right now.  
  
She took a deep breath, and then looked over at him. "Well, first, I think you underestimate yourself. But second, I understand. I really do. You've been through a lot this year, and it's not over yet. I completely understand if you need more time before you feel ready to be in a relationship."  
  
He could tell she was being brave—that she was struggling to put on a positive face. That made it hurt even worse.  
  
He looked back down at his hands. "Thank you. I appreciate that."  
  
They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rush of passing cars, the babble of the fountain, and the quiet in and out of each other's emotion-laden breath.  
  
What more was there to say?  
  
"Well, this is a little awkward," Leslie said, with just a hint of a smile on her face.  
  
And just like that, things felt a little better. Not a lot. But just enough to make it bearable.  
  
"I don't want to be awkward," she continued. "I mean, we're still friends, right?"  
  
"Yes. Of course." He didn't want to think about the long silence that would come when he left Pawnee. She was going to hate him for that. But she didn't hate him, yet. That was something he could hold onto for just a little longer. "I—I still want that. If you do?" He finally met her eyes again.  
  
She smiled at him. And his heart raced.  
  
"I do," she said.  
  
He nodded. "Then we are."  
  
"Good."  
  
They didn't talk much as they walked back to city hall, but things didn't feel quite as bad as he'd expected. At least, not until they parted ways outside his office and he watched her walking away.   
  
In less than a month he might lose her forever. And he'd just passed up his best chance to tell her how much she really meant to him.  
  
Ben headed into Chris's office.  
  
Chris looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Did you . . .?"  
  
Ben nodded. "I did. It's done." He leaned against the doorframe, feeling hollow inside. "I think I might need to get drunk tonight."  
  
Chris stood and walked over to him to pat him firmly on the shoulder. "I understand. And I will gladly accompany you to be your shoulder to cry on. And your designated driver."  
  
Ben managed to crack a smile. "Thanks. I think I'll need both."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie held it together until she found an empty bathroom. She locked herself into the biggest stall.  
  
So much for taking a leap of faith. She hadn't gotten a single word out before Ben dropped his bomb. Now she never would.  
  
She took a shuddering breath as the tears finally started to roll down her cheeks. _Crap, crap, crap._ Everything hurt.  
  
Her shoulders shook as she fought through a few quiet sobs. She leaned against the wall of the stall and put her face in her hands. She should have known better than to let herself get so caught up in this. She _had_ known better. She just hadn't stopped herself.  
  
She let the tears flow for a few minutes to get the worst out of her system. She still had to get through an afternoon of work. God, she didn't want to go back to work today.  
  
After a few minutes she pulled her phone out of her purse and hit speed dial number one.  
  
Ann answered on the second ring. "Hey, how'd your lunch go?"  
  
"Not good," Leslie replied.   
  
"Do I need to get out my baseball bat?"  
  
"No," Leslie smiled. "It wasn't _that_ bad. Just—not what I'd hoped for."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Leslie. What can I do?"  
  
Leslie swallowed hard. "Do you think we could go out and get really drunk tonight?"  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Sitting in a dark booth in the back of the Snakehole Lounge, Ben could hardly believe he'd been terrified of this place the first time he'd come here. Now, it felt comforting to be able to fade into the background of moving bodies and loud music and flashing lights, and just feel invisible for a night.  
  
Well, not entirely invisible. They'd had to move tables three times to find a place isolated enough that women wouldn't hit on Chris. But Ben thought they'd finally managed it.  
  
He hadn't felt like sharing the details of his depressing lunch with Leslie until after he'd had four beers. Sometime part-way through his fifth, he started talking and couldn't seem to stop.  
  
"She looked so sad and disappointed," he said as Chris nodded sympathetically. "And I'm the jerk who did that to her. I suck."  
  
"You don't suck, Ben. You're simply stuck between a rock and a hard place, trying to do the best that you can." Chris's customary positivity didn't do much to change Ben's mood.  
  
"You know the worst part?" Ben said as he started in on his sixth beer, "The worst part is that she thinks we're going to stay in touch when I leave. She's thinks we'll be email pals, and that we'll talk on the phone and stuff. God, when she tries calling me and gets a disconnected number she's going to hate me. I'm just gonna be another name on her list of crappy guys who treated her like shit. Ugh." He closed his eyes and hung his head. The thought that Leslie would think badly of him after he left filled him with a ball of festering despair.  
  
"Someday, once this is all over," said Chris, "she'll learn the truth. And she'll forgive you. Leslie isn't the type of person to hold a grudge. Not when you're acting out of a noble purpose."  
  
Ben shook his head. "I don't just want her forgiveness _someday._ I want her to know why I can't talk to her. I want her understand that it's not her fault and that I'm not a jerk. I want to know that she's out there, rooting for me. That's not too much to want, is it?"  
  
Chris looked solemn for a moment. "Well—you could write her a letter."  
  
Ben's eyes went wide and he sat up straight. "Oh my god. I could write her a letter. I could explain everything."  
  
"Yes," said Chris softly. "You could send it the day we leave. By then it'll be too late to do any harm."  
  
"And then she'll know." Ben clutched his bottle tightly. This was it. This was the answer he'd been looking for. "She'll understand why I have to go away. Why we can't be together. I can tell her everything." It wasn't perfect, but it was all he had, so he'd make the most of it.  
  
He met Chris's eyes. "I just want her to think well of me. I don't want to go away without her thinking well of me. You know?" His heart ached again to talk about leaving, but at least now he had some hope.  
  
"Yes. I understand completely. If I could go back in time and explain things to Kelsey, I'd do it in a heartbeat."  
  
Ben stared at his beer, his mind swirling. It had taken him a long time to understand Chris's lingering struggle over his relationship with Kelsey. But now—now he understood. "Chris," he said, "remember how you kept warning me not to get too attached to Leslie because you thought I was falling in love with her? And I kept blowing you off?"  
  
"I remember." Chris nodded.  
  
Ben took a deep breath, and the ache in his chest swelled as he spoke. "I need to apologize. Because you were right. You were right."   
  
As much as it hurt, it still helped to say it out loud. To finally confess the truth.  
  
Chris wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. "It'll be all right, buddy. Eventually, someday, we'll both be all right."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie and Ann sat at a table near the bar when they got to the Snakehole so that they'd get their drinks faster.  
  
Leslie got things started with a few shots before switching to beer. She didn't feel like wasting any time when it came to drinking away her pain.  
  
"I get it. I totally get it," Leslie rambled to Ann several drinks in. "His life is a mess and he doesn't think he can commit to a relationship right now. It makes sense. But it sucks."  
  
"It really does," Ann agree, sipping her margarita.  
  
"It _suuuucks_ ," Leslie repeated. "I almost wish I could be mad at him. Because that would be easier—I could get mad, and get it out of my system. But Ben seemed almost as sad as I am. For a minute there I thought he was gonna cry. God! Why does everything have to suck so bad?"  
  
"It's horrible. And terrible. And it sucks. And you can complain to me about how much it sucks every day for the next six months," said Ann. "But tonight you need to get the worst of it out so you can move on. Don't let this slow you down. You have too much going for you right now."  
  
"You're right!" Leslie jabbed her pointer finger in the air again. "I do. I have sooo much going for me."  
  
"Damn right."   
  
Ann always knew exactly what to say. Leslie didn't know what she'd do without Ann.   
  
They drank for a while longer, joking and playing quarters. Eventually, Leslie got hungry. "I'm gonna go get some peanuts. And maybe some mozzarella sticks. You stay here and watch our drinks."  
  
After leaving her order for mozzarella sticks at the bar, Leslie paid a visit to the ladies' room. When she stepped out of the restroom her eyes met a very unexpected sight, and she froze. It was Ben. "Oh my god."  
  
His jaw dropped and he stammered soundlessly for a moment. "I—hi."  
  
"I'm here with Ann. We weren't talking about you," said Leslie, her heart racing.  
  
"I—I—I'm here—uh—with Chris." Ben looked flushed. A moment later he added, "We were talking about you."  
  
Leslie blinked nervously, feeling a little sick. "You were?"  
  
He nodded. "Yeah. All night."  
  
Crap on a cockroach. This was not what she needed to hear right now. "Well, stop it."  
  
Ben frowned. "You want me to stop?"  
  
"Yes!" God, she was too tipsy for this. Ugh. "I really wanted to be with you. And it sucks. And it'll suck even worse if I know you're out there still thinking about me and talking about me. I can't deal with that right now. So just stop it, okay?"  
  
Ben stared at her with a puzzled expression for a few moments before softly murmuring, "Okay."  
  
But he still didn't move. And he just kept staring at her. What was his problem?  
  
Leslie was about to throw her hands up in frustration when Ben lunged forward and kissed her.  
  
She gasped in shock as his arm circled her waist and his other hand slid through her hair but then his lips were on hers, warm and inviting and eager, and oh boy. She felt herself melting into him, and let the tingling sensations soar through her body.  
  
She ran her hands up his back, pulling him closer, and opened her mouth to tease his lips with her tongue. God, it felt good.  
  
He'd changed his mind. He'd changed his mind, and now everything would be fine.  
  
After a few moments Ben slowly pulled back from her, and looked down at her, still breathing hard. She watched as his face morphed from happiness to confusion to something absolutely not happy.   
  
No. No no no no no. Not again. Please.  
  
"Ben?"  
  
He shook his head and stepped back. "I'm sorry. That was stupid. I—I—I wasn't thinking. I need to go now."  
  
"No—wait—" Leslie held up a hand to stop him but he kept backing away.  
  
"I'm sorry. Really sorry. Just—you and Ann stay here. I'm leaving." And he walked away.  
  
The pain in Leslie's chest swelled back up and she felt tears pricking her eyes. Damn it! At least this time she could be angry.  
  
She stormed back to her table and slumped onto the bench seat next to Ann.  
  
"What's wrong?" Ann scrunched her forehead.  
  
"Ben was here. And he was a big stupid jerk face." Leslie's voice caught in throat, but she fought back her tears. She'd cried enough for one day. "I think maybe it's time for your baseball bat."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Thankfully, Chris didn't question Ben when he made it back to their table and announced that they had to leave because Leslie was there. Instead he simply drove them home, and let Ben sit in silence.  
  
The next morning Ben woke up with a pounding headache, a sour mouth, and a chest full of regret.  
  
Right when he'd finally found a solution to his problem, he'd gone and screwed things up again.   
  
It was just his luck that Leslie had turned up right when he was drunk and emotional and needy. And to hear her say how much she'd wanted to be with him—it had been too much for his stupid addled brain.  
  
How would he ever be able to apologize for this?  
  
Ben did his best to avoid everyone but Chris for the first few hours of work. He needed to build up his fortitude before trying to face her down. But he knew he'd have to face her eventually, if he ever wanted a chance at leaving Pawnee with any traces of positive feelings still in her mind. He still wanted to write her that letter. And he wanted her to start reading it with good thoughts of him rather than bad.  
  
Damn it.  
  
Finally, just before lunch, he screwed up his courage and made his way down to the Parks Department to face her.   
  
Based on the cordial greetings he got from the rest of the gang, it seemed that at least she hadn't started bad-mouthing him yet. That was something.  
  
Fortunately, Leslie was alone in her office. Tom must have already left for an early lunch. Ben forced a smile and knocked lightly on her doorframe before stepping inside. "Hi."  
  
"Hi," she said, folding her arms and glaring at him coldly.  
  
He sighed. Well, he'd expected as much. "I came to apologize. For what happened last night."  
  
She squeezed her lips tight and said nothing.  
  
Great. "Uh, I'd had a little too much to drink, and, uh, my brain wasn't working too well, and I acted on impulse instead of rationality. But, I know I hurt you. And that was really crappy of me. And I'm sorry."  
  
"You should be. And you'll be even sorrier once Ann finishes bashing in your headlights with a baseball bat."  
  
"She what?" Ben's eyebrows shot up.  
  
Leslie unfolded her arms and sighed. "Actually she probably won't do that, because she doesn't want to get arrested. But she did give it very serious thought."  
  
"And I don't blame her," he replied. "I deserve it. I was—a huge jerk, last night. And I'd completely understand if you don't want to have anything more to do with me."  
  
Leslie looked away from him and shook her head. "I don't know what I want anymore."  
  
Ben nodded quietly. He wasn't going to push her on this one.  
  
Finally, she said, "I think I need a little space for a few days. I need to process all this. I've done stupid things when I'm drunk, too. We all have. But it still really hurts right now, and I need a little time to figure out if I can still be friends with you. Because right now I just don't know."  
  
It hurt, but Ben understood. "Okay. That's fair. I get it. I'll just, uh, give you some space for the rest of the week. And if you ever feel like talking to me again, you can talk to me."  
  
The conversation left him with a glimmer of hope, but not enough to ease the ache in his heart.  
  
The rest of the week he threw himself into his work, trying to drown out his emotions with numbers and facts. He might have messed things up with Leslie, but he could still help Pawnee. The reports he and Chris were preparing laid out a roadmap for the future of the city. A two-year plan to steer them on the course of continued financial solvency, and to provide the best possible services for their citizens.  
  
It could be his parting gift back to the city that had given him so much when he needed it the most.  
  
And at night, when he couldn't sleep, he started writing his letter to Leslie.  
  
He'd made up his mind. Whether she forgave him or not, he was sending this to her when he left.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Leslie changed her mind about Ben nearly every hour over those next few days.  
  
Sometimes she'd decide that what he'd done was no worse than half a dozen things _she'd_ done while inebriated. Or on a sugar high. Or sleep deprived. And she'd be headed down the corridor to the stairs up to his office before stopping and reminding herself not to be too hasty.  
  
Sometimes she'd be convinced that cutting him out of her life completely would be the healthiest option for both of them. And then she'd feel like crying and binge on ice cream.  
  
Nothing made sense.  
  
She wanted Ben in her life, but not if their friendship was constantly tinged with this unbearable sexual tension. It was just too stressful.   
  
However, she couldn’t fathom a way for their friendship to _not_ be tinged with sexual tension. It was pretty clear that both of them had feelings that far exceeded friendship, and there was no turning back from that.  
  
Yet the thought of giving up and walking away left a raw ache in her chest. She knew she could do it—but did she really want to?  
  
By the middle of the day Friday, she'd made up her mind. There was only one real solution to this dilemma. It was the very solution she should have spoken up for on Tuesday, instead of quietly letting Ben call all the shots.  
  
She'd tell him she wanted to be with him. A real relationship. No matter how hard it would be, or how messed up his life was, she was still ready to give it a try. At this point it was all or nothing. She didn't think she could live with halfway. Not anymore.  
  
A little after lunch she texted him to ask if he could come to meeting room five, to talk to her in private.  
  
It was do or die time.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Ben's gut churned as he walked to the meeting room. He wanted to believe that he could handle whatever she planned on saying to him, but the truth was, he was terrified.  
  
Ben had been in love before. A couple of times. Both times it had fallen apart for stupid reasons, and he'd eventually managed to bounce back.  
  
But this was different. Leslie was different. And he was different.  
  
He wasn't sure if he could handle this.  
  
Her smile was strained when he stepped into the meeting room and closed the door behind him. "Hi," she said softly.  
  
"Hi," he said back, slipping into a seat across the meeting table from her. "So—you want to talk?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes. I've given our situation a lot of thought over the past few days, and I think I've figured out what I want. It seems to me that both of us have feelings for each other. Feelings that sometimes override our common sense. I mean, it's not just me, right?" She didn't sound nervous until that final question.  
  
"No. It's not just you. I do have feelings for you." It felt like such a relief to finally say those words to her face. "Strong feelings. But I've been—I've been afraid to act on them. Because I feel like I'm not in the position to be the kind of boyfriend you deserve."  
  
"Maybe you need to stop making those decisions for me, and let me make them for myself," replied Leslie, a determined glint in her eyes. "I know you're pretty screwed up right now, with the panic disorder, and the stress of getting this consulting business started with Chris, and the move, and now your mom. I get how hard things are for you right now. I do. But I also think that finding someone you really connect with is a rare and special thing, and we'll both regret it for a long time if we don't at least give this a chance."  
  
Ben could hardly breathe. He'd expected, at best, a return to her offer of continued friendship. But _this_? This was something he was completely unprepared for. "I—I don't know what to say."  
  
"You could start by saying you're ready to stop making unilateral decisions for the both of us. You could say that if I'm willing to put up with your messy life, then you'll be willing to try to make room in it for me. That would be a pretty good place to start." She smiled at him, the hope shining clearly in her eyes.  
  
Oh shit. How the hell was he supposed to respond to this? It was everything he wanted, but nothing he could give. "But I can't."  
  
She froze, the shock and pain registering instantly in her eyes.  
  
No. That's not what he meant to do. Ben shot to his feet. "That's not what I meant. I mean, it _is_ what I meant, but not in the way you think I meant it."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
He ran his fingers through his hair, struggling to find the words. "I mean I want to. I really, really want to be with you. But I literally can't do it."  
  
"Why not?" Leslie stood up, spreading her arms in disbelief. "You said you aren't married, and you don't have a kid somewhere, and you're not a murderer or a con man or a fugitive, or anything, are you?"  
  
Ben started pacing. Crap, crap, crap.  
  
"Are you?" she implored.  
  
"Damn it. I can't take this anymore."  
  
"Take what anymore?" She sounded ready to scream.  
  
He _felt_ ready to scream.  
  
Ben faced her and rested his hands on the table, leaning toward her. "Everson Pharmaceuticals."  
  
She furrowed her brow. "What? That court case you're following? Why are you bringing that up now?"  
  
"Because it's not just a court case. I used to work there. Chris and I both worked there. Together." His heart felt ready to pound out of his chest.  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Look it up," he said, his voice raw in his throat. "Get on your computer and look it up on Google. With the trial a month away, I'm sure there's plenty of articles out there. Read everything you find. And you'll see why I can't be with you. You'll see why I can't just say _to hell with the Atlanta job._ Because I'm not really going there for a job. I'm going there for that trial."  
  
Her breath shook, and she stared him with wide eyes. "What are you saying? What do you mean you're going there for the trial?"  
  
Ben took a deep breath. "We're witnesses. Chris and I. We're both witnesses."  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before meeting her gaze again. She looked so lost and hurt and confused, and there was nothing he could do to make it better. Nothing but this. "I've told you so many lies. Too many to count. And it's been killing me. I can't do it anymore. So this is the truth. Everson Pharmaceuticals. Look it up. Read everything you can find. And if you never want to see me again, I'll understand. I probably wouldn't want to see me again if I was you." He swallowed. "But if you have any questions—anything you want to talk about, or ask me, or tell me—just call, and I'll come. I'll tell you everything you want to know. All you have to do is ask. I'm not going anywhere. Not yet."  
  
"Ben—" She still looked stunned. "This is for real. This isn't a joke?"  
  
He shook his head. "This is as real as it gets. Look it up. Read it. I'll be here."  
  
He turned and stepped out the door, his breath coming in short gasps, his hands shaking.  
  
Everything had changed. There was no going back.  
  
TBC


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter originally published on LiveJournal in November 2012

Leslie walked the corridors of city hall in daze. She passed the entrance to the Parks Department and then some before realizing where she was. None of this could be real. It couldn't be.  
  
 _"I've told you so many lies. Too many to count."_ Ben's words still echoed in her head. _"We're witnesses. Chris and I. We're both witnesses."_  
  
She finally made it to her desk and sank into her chair. All the pieces of a puzzle jumbled her mind, and she couldn't quite put them together, yet.  
  
The rational part of her brain insisted that Ben had told her exactly what it sounded like: he and Chris weren't who they said they were. They were actually witnesses in a major trial hiding out in Pawnee until it was time to testify.  
  
But that couldn't be true. She knew Ben. She _knew_ him.  
  
Or at least she thought she did.  
  
All of the clues had been right there in front of her. His skittish behavior when he first came to town. His caginess about his past. His claims of being estranged from his family. The way he'd been bugging her about the Everson trial over a month ago. _(Oh god, he tried to tell me. He tried and I just wasn't listening.)_ And the way he'd freaked out when she discovered his secret past as Benji Adams.  
  
Searching her memories, she realized that he'd never actually told her that he changed his name because of the harassment he faced after his teen-mayor debacle. She'd only assumed it. But all he'd ever really said was that he'd had to change his name to get a fresh start. He'd never said _when_.  
  
With shaking hands she typed two phrases into her search engine: "Everson Pharmaceuticals" and "Ben Adams."   
  
Seconds later she had hundreds of results. There it was, right before her eyes.  
  
She scrolled through the list, blinking in astonishment, until she came across a headline that made her blood run cold. It read: "Everson Whistleblowers Survive Assassination Attempt – Lead Prosecutor Killed."  
  
She read the article with mounting nausea building in her gut. It was so much worse than she'd imagined.   
  
Corporate whistleblowers Ben Adams and Chris Robinson, responsible for taking down the corrupt Everson Pharmaceuticals from the inside, had been targeted by a sniper. One bodyguard was injured and the lead prosecutor died on the scene. The witnesses were being held in federal protective custody until the trial could be rescheduled.  
  
Leslie swallowed hard and closed her eyes.  
  
This was real. It was like a nightmare coming true.  
  
There had been no armed robbery. Ben hadn't just seen a work acquaintance die. He and Chris had been targeted by assassins. Ben had been shot. The prosecutor that had been in charge of the trial died right in front of him.  
  
In her mind she could see that red scar on Ben's shoulder as clearly as she had that night more than two weeks ago. People had tried to _kill_ him.  
  
And he and Chris were sent to Pawnee to keep them safe.  
  
"Oh my god," she whispered. "Oh my god."  
  
It was too much. She couldn't deal with this in the middle of her office with Tom sitting a few yards away. She had to get out of here—to go home, where she could have the space and time and quiet to think this through and figure it all out.  
  
How much of what she knew about Ben was the truth, and how much was an elaborate charade? The question made her sick to her stomach.  
  
She walked out of her office in a daze and leaned through Ron's door. "I'm heading home early."  
  
"No one's stopping you," replied Ron dismissively, his eyes focused on what look like it would be a duck once he finished whittling.   
  
He was leaving wood shavings everywhere. Leslie thought she really ought to tell him to clean up—no. No. She couldn't let other things distracted. She needed focus and do more research and more reading and figure out what the hell she was supposed to do with this new information. She nodded quietly and turned to leave.  
  
"You look a little off," said Ron.  
  
Leslie looked back.  
  
Ron's forehead had scrunched into his version of concern. "Are you coming down with something?"  
  
"I think so." Leslie faked a cough. "I'm just going to go get some rest."  
  
Ron nodded, and Leslie turned again. She could feel his eyes follow her as she left the department.  
  
So—she'd just told her first lie to cover up for Ben. How many more would she have to tell before this was all over?  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Chris blinked in surprise as Ben walked into his office with a shell-shocked look on his face and slumped into one of the chairs facing Chris's desk.  
  
Oh dear. This couldn't be good. "What's going on?"  
  
Ben shook his head slowly. "I couldn't stop myself. I—I just couldn't. I cracked."  
  
Chris had a very bad feeling about this. "Ben—what happened?"  
  
Ben looked up to meet Chris's eyes. He looked like a frightened puppy. "I told her."  
  
Chris drew in a long, deep breath. He didn't need to ask who or what Ben meant. But a little clarification was in order. "How much did you tell her? And how did she react?"  
  
"I didn't tell her many details, but she got the gist of it." Ben rubbed his face with his hand as he spoke, and had a pained expression on her face. "She knows we're witnesses. We used to work for Everson Pharmaceutical. And we're actually going to Atlanta for the trial. I told her to look the rest up and decide for herself what she wanted to do." He shook his head. "God. I actually told her to Google it. What the hell was I thinking? I drop this massive bomb in her lap and then tell her to _Google_ it? Maybe I should—just—go find her and explain a little more. I was so flustered. . . I don't even know . . ." Ben moved as if to stand.  
  
Chris waved him down. "No. I think you made the right choice. Leslie is bound to want as much information as possible, and city hall is hardly the place for a lengthy conversation on this particular subject. How did she seem to take the news?" This was the key. Everything here hinged on continued secrecy, and while under normal circumstances Chris would trust Leslie completely, even trustworthy people could disappoint under stressful circumstances.  
  
Ben shook his head slowly. "She looked completely shocked. Leslie's almost never at a loss for words, but this one had her speechless." He looked down and clenched his fists. "Damn it. She put her heart on the line, for me, Chris. She said she wanted to be with me in spite of everything. I had to tell her. I just had to. Didn't I?" Ben looked back up, pleading with his eyes.  
  
Chris's heart stirred uncomfortably as he reflected back on his own decisions regarding placing the importance of pursuing justice ahead of being honest with the woman he loved. He still didn't know whether his choice had been the right one, or whether Ben had made the better choice this afternoon. Only time would tell. Chris sighed. "It certainly put you in a difficult position. I understand why you decided to tell her the truth. But if you left her hanging with nothing more than instructions to Google the trial, I do think you need to fill in the picture a little more. Perhaps we should head down to the Parks Department and talk to her together." That would give Chris a better opportunity to assess the situation and regain some of the control that he'd been slowly but surely ceding to Ben over the past few months.  
  
"All right," Ben said with a resigned look on his face.  
  
But when they reached the Parks Department, they found it abandoned. Chris narrowed his eyes in puzzlement. Surely this had nothing to do with the news Ben had shared with Leslie. But what if it did? This could be far worse than he'd imagined.  
  
Looking around, he caught sight of Andy at his shoeshine stand through the windows, and April sat beside him. If anyone knew what was going on, they would.  
  
Chris led the way across the courtyard with Ben trailing nervously behind, and tried to greet the couple with his normal cheery inflections before turning the subject. "Question," he said, "It's only 3:53 pm. Where is everyone from the Parks Department? Surely they haven't all gone home? Or is there a meeting I didn't know about?"  
  
April shrugged. "Leslie went home sick about ten minutes ago. And it's Friday. So with no boss around, we're all just doing whatever we want."  
  
Chris frowned. At moments like these he still had difficultly fathoming how this group managed to pull off something like the Harvest Festival. "But Ron is your boss."  
  
Andy immediately burst into laughter. "Good one, Chris."  
  
Chris had no response. He certainly wasn't in a joking mood. But at least Leslie had left city hall without telling any of her friends the news. That was heartening.  
  
"Is Ben sick, too?" asked Andy. "You're looking a little vomity, my friend."  
  
Ben scrunched his face and frowned in a way that only made him look sicker. "Maybe. I—maybe."  
  
Chris seized the opportunity. Ben was in no state to be talking to others right now. "I think Andy is right. Perhaps you should follow Leslie's example and head home early. Thank you." He nodded at April and Andy, and then placed a hand on Ben's shoulder to lead him back out into the courtyard.  
  
Ben had meant well. If Chris had been in the same situation with Kelsey, he likely would have done the same thing. But Ben never should have been in that position in the first place. He should have made a clean break with Leslie instead of dragging things out. And now, their time in Pawnee might be even more limited than they'd believed.  
  
Once they made it back to their office, Chris spoke softly, to be sure no one would overhear. "We need to go speak to her in person. Who knows what kind of conclusions she'll draw without us to answer her questions?"  
  
Ben shook his head. "I'm starting to think my first instinct was right. Leslie likes to know everything about everything, and I know she'll have a million questions. But I think she needs at least a few hours to process this before we barge in and screw up her life even more." He sighed. "I'll call her later tonight. Or text her. Or maybe email—" He perked up. "The letter! I can finish the letter I was writing and email it to her. That will answer most of the basic questions, and give her a better understanding of this whole situation. And then I'll let her decide when she wants to talk. I don't think we should push her right now. We need to give her space."  
  
"All right," Chris agreed warily, not at all convinced that space was what she needed. But Ben knew her best. And the letter would be a good stopgap measure. It ought to at least be enough to stop her from getting sucked into too much wild speculation that could lead to things like confessing to Ann or calling the cops. "However," he added, "we need to prepare ourselves for the very real possibility that we'll have to leave Pawnee this weekend. We should head home and pack some overnight bags, just in case."  
  
Ben reluctantly agreed, and they headed out for their condo.  
  
As they drove, Chris couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. Now they could finally leave. The lies would be over. They could lie low in Indianapolis for a few weeks and then head off to Altanta to finish this whole sordid business once and for all.  
  
Thank god. He'd had enough of lies, and enough of waiting. Finally, his life was about to get back on track.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
It took Leslie a few hours to catch onto the trick of recognizing an article that was a reprint with minor tweaks published in a new place. She could have saved so much time if she'd caught on sooner—but really, her brain wasn't exactly functioning normally tonight.  
  
She read article after article detailing the greedy and ruthless business practices of George Everson and his top executives. And article after article on the risky but brave actions of Ben and Chris, the whistleblowers that helped the FBI build their case.  
  
She tried to think of them as strangers—people she'd never met. If she'd just read this by happenstance, she'd admire them. She'd cheer them on, and applaud them for risking their lives to bring down a despicable man and his cohorts.  
  
But they weren't strangers.  
  
Her mind kept circling back around to how little of this added up. She knew Ben came from a corporate background, but she still couldn't picture him as an ambitious man married to his work that wore three-piece suits and drove a fancy car to his swanky office. That guy wasn't the Ben she knew. Yet all the articles implied that had been his life right up until just over a year ago when he went into protective custody.  
  
What about the sweet, nerdy guy who wanted to save valuable city services and had a dead aim in laser tag? The guy who brought too much food to a barbeque because he wanted to make a good impression? The guy who took martial arts with Andy and went shooting with Ron and went to fragrance launch-parties with Tom? The guy who bought her Harry Potter's wand even after she'd been an enormous jerk and kissed her like she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen? How could he be _that_ Ben, and corporate ladder-climber Ben Adams at the same time?  
  
None of it seemed to fit. Leslie felt like she was trying to hammer a square peg into a round hole, and she simply couldn't make it work.  
  
Yes, he'd made the right choice to turn against his bosses and go to the FBI. And he'd made the right choice again to finally come clean with her. But what about all the hundreds of choices that led him to being promoted and trusted in Everson's hierarchy in the first place?  
  
Leslie downed another chocolate syrup-filled cup of coffee as she squinted at another article. She was beginning to think that she didn't really know Ben at all. All her hope and excitement from earlier in the day had changed into anxiety and doubt. Not only could she not trust Ben, she couldn't trust her own judgment anymore.  
  
When she closed her eyes she could still his face when he confessed. When he'd told her that she'd probably never want to see him again. And the desperate hope in his voice when he'd said he wasn't going anywhere—that she could ask him anything, and he'd answer.   
  
Her throat tightened and she fought back welling tears. She still wanted her Ben—the one who'd confused and frustrated and charmed and excited her from the first day he arrived in Pawnee. If only she could be sure that _her_ Ben really existed.  
  
Sometime late in the night, after her eyes grew tired from staring at her computer screen, she decided to try to get a few hours of sleep. Perhaps things would make more sense in the morning. But first, out of habit, she clicked over to her email. Immediately, amongst the list of standard emails, one jumped out at her.  
  
"Please read this. It's what I should have said instead of running away," read the subject line. Ben had sent it nearly two hours ago.  
  
Leslie bit down lightly on her bottom lip and frowned. She felt so mentally and emotionally exhausted. She really didn't have it in her to deal with this tonight. But how could she not?  
  
She opened the email.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben had tweaked and rewritten the letter for hours before finally giving up and emailing it just after eleven.   
  
Then he'd paced. And flipped channels. And drank a beer. And paced. And flipped channels some more. All the while glancing at his phone every few minutes, checking for a reply email, or a text, or waiting for a call.  
  
But there was nothing.  
  
It was almost one in the morning, and still nothing.  
  
He nearly jumped out of his skin when the front door opened, but it was only Chris returning from his night-run. Ben almost wished exercise could help him blow off steam the way it did for Chris. He really needed something to distract him right now.  
  
"Any word, yet?" asked Chris as he removed the flashing safety armbands he'd worn for his run.  
  
Ben shook his head and gripped the back of the sofa, leaning against it to steady himself. He felt drained and exhausted, but also pretty certain he'd have no luck falling asleep.  
  
Chris sank into the nearest chair, and sighed. "Have you tried calling her?"  
  
"No." Ben shook his head. "I want to give her time and space to think through everything."  
  
"All right. I suppose we simply need to wait." Chris gazed at him. "Did you pack a bag?"  
  
Ben clenched his teeth and nodded shortly. He hated the thought that finally telling the truth might be reason they have to leave. But Chris was right. They couldn't take any chances.  
  
"Do you want to try sleeping?" Chris asked.  
  
"I don't think I can."  
  
Chris nodded thoughtfully. "How about a movie? Your choice."  
  
"Fine." It wasn't like he could think of anything better to do. He plugged in his "Final Cut" edition disc of _Bladerunner_.  
  
Halfway through, Chris gave Ben a frustrated look. "This film is confusing. And depressing."  
  
Ben sighed and sank lower into the couch cushions. "Yeah. It is."  
  
Chris nodded, but stayed where he was. They were both quiet through the rest of the movie.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie startled awake from a bad dream. She'd been lost in the corn maze with Ben. Every time she turned her back he'd disappear and she'd call his name, running up and down the living corridors, searching. And he'd reappear as if nothing had happened. But the next time she looked away, he'd vanish again. Finally he disappeared altogether, but she'd found Li'l Sebastian instead. Then the poor little horse lay down and whinnied in pain and refused to move. In her dream she'd broken down crying in despair just before she woke up.  
  
She glanced over at her clock. 6:07. She'd been asleep for just under three hours.  
  
There was no sense in staying in bed. She got up and headed down to make a new pot of coffee, and then popped her laptop open to read Ben's email again.  
  
It laid out his whole time at Everson Pharmaceuticals—from the time five and a half years ago when he'd been a senior vice president in the accounting department at a mid-sized medical device manufacturer. An executive from Everson recruited him into a position in their internal auditing department, and it had seemed like a dream job. Then he described the little clues and worrisome inconsistencies he'd occasionally stumble across as he sifted through the company's finances, but which he'd always reported to his superiors and then tried to put out of his mind. And how those troubling details had bothered him more and more as he rose through the ranks and had fewer superiors to pass them onto. Then, nearly two years ago, he'd been promoted to head the entire internal auditing department. And within weeks he found discrepancies that he couldn't continue to ignore. There was no one to report them to but the top executives and the board, but it was clear from the start that they knew perfectly well what was going on.  
  
Then came the story of his nine months as the department head—his growing disillusionment, his attempts to rally his entire twenty-three person department to his cause only to have all of them be fired, transferred, intimidated into submission, or bribed into complicity. Finally, with only Chris remaining by his side, going to the FBI with the evidence he'd gathered, only to be told that they wanted him and Chris to play along with Everson a little longer, to dig a little deeper. And then, after a month of constant fear and paranoia, finding a bomb rigged to his car. Ben and Chris had been whisked away into protective custody only a day before Everson, several of his top executives and most of the board of directors were all arrested. Then came six months in various safe-houses in the Atlanta area, followed by the sniper attack at the pre-trial hearing. And then they came to Pawnee.   
  
It was enough to make Leslie's head hurt.  
  
This sort of thing didn't happen to real people—especially not to people she knew. It was only supposed to happen in the movies, or in suspense novels. Yet, it _had_ happened.  
  
She raked her hand through her messy hair as she took in Ben's words of apology again. His explanation of how much he'd wanted to tell her the truth—of how he'd debated it back and forth for months, torn between the need to maintain his cover, his desire to protect her from the dangerous realities of his life and his aching desire to be honest with her.  
  
Leslie could only just begin to imagine how difficult it must have been to have to lie, day in and day out, to everyone he knew—and everyone he cared about. All while being utterly cut off from all his friends and family—even after Everson target his mother. She could hardly fathom how hard it must have been for him, especially after all those months of mounting fear while still working for Everson, and then the constant fear of death threats while in federal custody. Then the post-traumatic stress and panic attacks brought on by the assassination attempt. And now the constant worry about his family.  
  
It boggled her mind that Ben had been dealing with so much when he arrived in Pawnee. He carried such a huge burden on his shoulders. Him and Chris, both. It was almost enough for her to forgive Chris for hurting Ann. She finally understood why he'd done it.  
  
In the cold light of day, it finally dawned on her why Ben had been so convinced that she wouldn't want to see him again after his revelation. It wasn't that he'd been afraid she'd hate him for lying. He _had_ to lie. He'd been given no choice. No. It was because he believed that she'd see just how impossible and heartbreaking a relationship with him would turn out to be.  
  
That's what this was really all about, she realized, standing up from her computer and walking to her window to stare out at the rising sun.  
  
Ben knew she'd never give away his secret. He knew she'd respect his motives for lying, and that she'd support and admire his devotion to bringing Everson and his cohorts to justice. And she did. She really, really did.  
  
But what about the two of them? She'd been one hundred percent ready to take a leap of faith to be with him in spite of all the obstacles before she'd learned the truth. But now . . .  
  
Now she had no idea what to do.  
  
Her heart and her head both ached, but her work wasn't done. She stiffened her spine and topped off her coffee mug before sitting back down at her computer. There were still dozens of questions that she hadn't found answers to in her reading last night. Maybe her fresh eyes this morning would help her find more clarity. And maybe, as she read, she'd get enough of a handle on her feelings to know what to say to Ben the next time she saw him.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben gasped and blinked against the sunlight when he woke suddenly. He wasn't sure when he fell asleep or what had woken him, but he felt anything but rested.  
  
The clock said it was nearly eight o'clock, and Ben still lay on the couch in his clothes as a logo-screensaver bounced around his television screen. He'd started _Gattaca_ after _Blade Runner_ ended, but apparently the low-key sci-fi classic hadn't been enough to keep him awake.  
  
After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the first thing Ben did was fumble for his phone.  
  
His shoulders slumped. Still no messages from Leslie—no calls, no texts, no emails.  
  
He repeated to himself a few more times that she needed time and space, but really, it was getting more than a little hard to stay patient. It had been about seventeen hours since he confessed the truth. How much longer would it take for her decide to talk to him again? Unless she decided that she _never_ wanted to talk to him again . . .  
  
Ben shook his head. No. That wasn't a possibility he wanted to think about yet.  
  
He headed upstairs for a quick shower, jumping out in record time to check his phone again.  
  
Still nothing.  
  
He downed some cold cereal for breakfast. Still no contact from Leslie. He politely declined Chris's offer to make him a green smoothie. Still nothing. He went for a short jog. Nothing.  
  
He was about to turn on another movie when his phone rang. He nearly dropped it.  
  
"He—hello?" he said after fumbling to answer.  
  
"Ben," said Ron's low voice, "I'm about to head up into the hills for some target shooting. Care to join me?"  
  
Ben closed his eyes and rubbed his face. "Uh. . ." What if Leslie tried to call while he was shooting? What if he missed her? On the other hand, what if she took twelve more hours to contact him while he slowly went insane while watching a _Battlestar Galactica_ marathon? "Sure," he finally replied. "I really need to blow off some steam this morning."  
  
"I'll meet you at the shooting hill in thirty minutes."  
  
Ben nodded. "Perfect. See you there."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Several more hours of article parsing and research on legal terms had answered many more of Leslie's technical questions, but most of her personal questions—the human questions—remained unanswered.  
  
Most notably: What was she going to do about Ben?  
  
Clearly a long-term relationship was now completely off the table. The sensible choice would be to offer him a little emotional support and encouragement as he prepared to leave for the trial, but to step back from anything deeper. Anything more and she'd only get herself more attached than she already was.  
  
But was the sensible choice necessarily the _right_ choice?  
  
With a sigh she closed her computer and picked up her phone.  
  
She'd never be able to make up her mind without talking to Ben, again. In person. The sooner the better.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Target shooting proved to be exactly the distraction he needed.  
  
Ron was content to talk only when they needed to communicate about setting targets or choosing weapons. The rest of the time they shot in silence.   
  
Every cascade of glass shrapnel when Ben hit a bottle and every puff of red dust when he hit a clay target gave him a much-needed burst of temporary satisfaction. _Job well done. Mission accomplished._  
  
Target shooting was straightforward and simple. You hit or you missed.   
  
There was a definite appeal to that. At times like this Ben could understand why Ron chose to keep his life as simple and uncomplicated as possible.  
  
After a couple of hours they called it a day and packed up their gear.  
  
As Ben loaded his gun case into his trunk, Ron cleared his throat. "I don’t normally involve myself in other people's personal affairs. Their business is their business, and I stay out of it. However, sometimes other people's business affects me. For instance, this past week Leslie has been performing at significantly less than her usual high standard. Which meant I had to work more. I don't like having to work more."  
  
Ben frowned, but said nothing. It seemed best to let Ron say his piece.  
  
"I suspect," continued Ron, "that her decline in performance this week may have something to do with your imminent departure." Ron gave him a pointed look.  
  
Ben sighed and looked down, nudging a rock with his toe. "It might," he conceded.  
  
Ron gave a short nod. "Well, I highly suggest you resolve your personal matters with her. The sooner the better. If you plan on ending things, make it a clean break, and do it soon. Let her get on with her life. But do keep one thing in mind: jobs come and jobs go. But finding a real companion to share your life with—that's a rare opportunity that shouldn't be sacrificed lightly. And if you suspect you might have a shot at that here, I'd think twice before leaving. Just my opinion. I don't claim to know your mind on these things—nor do I want to know."  
  
Ron's unexpected advice stirred Ben's heart. He knew Ron was aware that something was going on between him and Leslie, but he never would have guessed that beneath his gruff exterior, Ron was actually concerned about them. _God, I wish I could stay. I need friends like this._  
  
Ben nodded slowly. "Thanks. Yeah. I appreciate it."  
  
Ron shrugged off the thanks and shook his head. "Onto other matters. Want to drop by JJ's for some burgers?"  
  
Ben took him up on the offer, though he checked his phone several times on the way there, and several more while waiting for their food to arrive.  
  
Halfway through his cheeseburger he'd just about given up on hearing from Leslie before the evening time when his phone rang. He dropped his burger and wiped his hands hurriedly on his napkin before grabbing the phone.   
  
"Leslie?" he gasped, hardly believing she'd finally called.  
  
"We need to talk. In person. Can you come to my place?"   
  
Ben's appetite immediately vanished. She hardly sounded like herself. What would he be facing when he got to her place? "Yes. Yeah. I—I can be there in ten minutes."  
  
"Okay. See you then."  
  
After hanging up, Ben stood and scrambled for his wallet, dropping a ten dollar bill on the table beside his half-eaten food. "I'm sorry, Ron. I've gotta go."  
  
Ron nodded. "I understand. Go take care of things. Do it right."  
  
Ben let himself smile at Ron's brand of caring. He liked it. "I'll do my best." Whatever that ended up meaning.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Leslie sat in her front room, her stomach churning as she waited on tenterhooks for Ben to arrive.  
  
She still didn't know what she'd say, or what she'd do. All she knew was that she needed to see him again. She needed to find out who he really was, once and for all.  
  
The doorbell rang.  
  
Leslie stood up and, with a trembling hand, opened the door.  
  
TBC


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter originally published on LiveJournal in November 2012

Leslie's jaw dropped at the sight of Ann Perkins standing on her front stoop. "Heeeyyy…"  
  
"Thank god you're here!" Ann said, pushing past Leslie to come inside. "I was worried about you. You haven't answered any of my calls or texts for more than a day. You never do that. I was afraid you'd been in an accident, or that one of your piles finally fell on you and you were trapped." She gestured at the stacks of bins and boxes cluttering one end of Leslie's front room.  
  
Immediately Leslie raised a finger and wagged it as she responded. "Those piles are much more stable since that organizer came through, and you know it."  
  
Ann sighed. "Yes. Of course. I know. But still, what's going on? You dropped off the face of the earth yesterday afternoon. I was worried. Are you sick? Do you need me to check your temperature? I brought my thermometer."  
  
At times like this Leslie still marveled that she'd managed to score such a wonderful best friend. And no matter what else happened, Ann wasn't going anywhere. Except right now. Because she needed to get Ann the hell out of there before Ben showed up. "You perfect, beautiful nurse. Thank you, forever, thank you for caring so much about me. But I'm fine. Really. I was feeling a little under the weather yesterday afternoon so I went home early, but I got a good night's sleep and now I feel fine."  
  
Ann's forehead knit and her lips were tight. Leslie cringed a little, knowing how transparent her lie had been. _Damn. I'm really going to have to get better at this._  
  
"So why weren't you answering your phone?" asked Ann.  
  
 _Crap._ "Uh—I lost it. And the power died. And I forgot to plug it in."  
  
"You didn't answer you home phone, either."  
  
 _Double crap._ "I must not have heard you. Because I was making noise while I was—was cleaning the house. You know—faucets and vacuums and stuff. Very noisy." Leslie nodded emphatically.  
  
Ann arched an eyebrow and surveyed the still very messy front room. "Sure."  
  
"I was doing this room next."  
  
Ann nodded slowly.  
  
Leslie sighed. "I'm sorry you were worried. And I'm sorry I didn't call you back. Because you're my best friend. Always. And I love you. But I'm expecting someone any minute, and it's kind of private, so I really need you to leave."  
  
"Who are you expecting?" Ann's frown deepened.  
  
"Ben." Leslie opted for the truth, because it seemed like the best way to get Ann to leave.  
  
"Oh my god. Seriously? This is still going on? After everything he's done to you?"  
  
Leslie gritted her teeth. She'd known Ann would disapprove of her making any more moves with Ben, which was why she hadn't told her anything before her talk with Ben yesterday afternoon. So she'd already been bracing for this lecture. "Yes. And I know that on the surface it looks really bad, and needy, and desperate. But he means a great deal to me and I care about him very much. We had a good talk yesterday where he shared some very important things with me about his past, and why he's so nervous about long-distance relationships. But he really cares about me, too, and we decided to spend the night apart, thinking things over to see if we can come up with a plan for staying in each other's lives. And he's about to come here and talk to me and if you're here, you'll scare him away because he knows you don't approve of him, so I really need you to leave." There. That was nearly the truth, and Ann would certainly buy it.  
  
Ann shook her head. "You're asking for trouble. Ben is clearly not ready for a commitment. I'm only saying this because I love you—but you're being really stupid. He's going to end up breaking your heart, just like Chris broke mine."  
  
Leslie's throat tightened. On that point, she couldn't disagree. Ben probably _would_ break her heart—just not for the reasons Ann thought he would. She fought down her emotions. "Maybe he will. I don't know. But I need to do this. Maybe it's a mistake, but this is my choice, and I need to make it. Just let me have it out with Ben tonight. Please—I'll talk to you tomorrow."  
  
Ann continued to frown, but nodded. "Fine. You know I'm not going to stop worrying about you, though."  
  
"I know," replied Leslie, reaching out to rest her hands on Ann's shoulders. "And I am so unbelievably grateful that I have someone like you in my life. But right now I really need you to scram."  
  
"Ok," said Ann, still looking frustrated. "However this goes—good luck." She squeezed Leslie in a brief hug, which filled her with new energy and strength.  
  
"Thank you," Leslie said, squeezing back before ushering Ann out the door.  
  
She sank onto her couch and rubbed her face. More lies. Already, more lies.  
  
Just a few minutes passed before the doorbell rang again.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
As he stood on Leslie's stoop and pushed her doorbell, Ben started to deeply regret that cheeseburger. JJ's non-breakfast food was passable on a good day; however, this was anything but a good day. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't throw up on Leslie's sofa.  
  
He jumped back nervously when Leslie flung the door open and glared at him.  
  
She wore faded black sweatpants and a baggy Pawnee Rec Center t-shirt, with her hair pulled back in a rumpled ponytail. "I just had to lie to Ann for you," she said unceremoniously and then stalked back into her front room.  
  
Ben blinked a few times, and then shuffled after her. "Uh, sorry?" he said, closing the door behind him.  
  
Leslie shook her head and sank down onto her sofa, looking defeated. "She just showed up because she was worried about me not answering my phone. I had to lie to her to get her to leave. And this won't be the last time I have to lie for you, will it?"  
  
Ben sat gingerly on the other end of the sofa, debating whether or not there was any way to soften this blow. Probably not. He sighed. "No. It won't be."  
  
They sat in silence for a few minutes. He watched her as she stared down at her interlaced fingers in her lap.  
  
Eventually she said, "How do you do it? How do you keep up the lies, day after day after day?"  
  
"It's not easy," he admitted. "At first it was something I had to think about all the time. And then I started getting used to the lie. I fell into the role until I didn't know where Ben Wyatt ended and Ben Adams began. So for a while there it wasn't that hard any more. But then I started wanting to tell you the truth, and the only way I stopped myself was by reminding myself of the potential consequences."  
  
Leslie tilted her head up to meet his eyes. "What exactly are the consequences?"  
  
Ben ruffled his hair with one hand and sighed. "There's a lot of potential consequences. I know you wouldn't give us away on purpose. I _know_ that. But the burden of lying all the time is really heavy, and it would be easy to slip up once in a while. If someone overheard something and then blogged about it or posted something on Facebook or Twitter or even just mentioned it to the wrong person, who knows where that information might end up? Everson has hired professionals to silence us before, and if he ever had any inkling as to where we're hiding, I know without a doubt that he'd do it again. Then it wouldn't just be me and Chris on the line. It would be all our friends and coworkers. Everyone we care about would be in danger."  
  
Leslie sucked on her lower lip and nodded, her eyes flitting downward.  
  
"That's a worst case scenario," Ben said. "More likely, the marshals would figure out that I'd let the truth slip, and they'd swoop in to relocate me and Chris again. One day we'd be there, the next we'd be gone. The bottom line is, it's not just about my life, or Chris's life. It's about justice. George Everson and his co-conspirators need to pay for the harm they did to millions of investors and thousands of cancer patients and their families. That's what this all comes down to. My testimony and Chris's testimony are the centerpiece of the case against them. The people Everson harmed will never see justice done unless Chris and I protect ourselves. You understand that, don't you?"  
  
"Of course I do," Leslie replied indignantly. "What I don't understand, is why did you try to tell me, anyway? If you faced all those consequences, then why'd you try to get me to read about the Everson trial while we were planning the Harvest Festival?"  
  
Ben looked away from her gaze and winced at the pain in his gut. He should have known this would come up. He shook his head slowly. "The truth is—the truth is I've been playing with fire since the first week I got here. Do you remember that day when you apologized for yelling at me, and then you yelled at me some more, and then I took you out for beers at ten-thirty in the morning?"  
  
"I remember."  
  
"When we were walking back to City Hall you asked if we'd ever met before, because I looked familiar. Somehow, after knowing you for less than twenty-four hours, I knew in my gut that you remembered reading about teen-mayor Benji Adams. I just _knew_ it. And I should have called the marshals that night and gotten a transfer out of Pawnee the next day. But I saw something in you that made me want to damn the consequences and stay anyway. And I _really_ should have called the marshals when you confronted me about my name at the Chamber of Commerce meeting. But by then I was too hooked on Pawnee—too hooked on the people I'd met here—that I convinced myself it would be safe to tell you. That having you know the truth might make it easier." He shook his head.  
  
"So what stopped you? What changed your mind?" She held his gaze, pleading with her eyes.  
  
Ben swallowed hard. "The more attached I got to you—the more I came to care about you—the more I realized how selfish it would be to tell you. It might make _me_ feel better, but it has the potential to put you in harm's way. That's the last thing on earth that I want to do."  
  
"What about now?" she asked. "Is telling me now still selfish? Is it still putting me in harm's way?"  
  
"Yes. Probably. I'm sorry. I—I—I couldn't take it anymore. Lying to you day after day. It was eating away at me. I couldn't stand it. Especially after what you told me yesterday. I had to tell you. I probably should have hurt you and made a clean break and walked away. That would have been the best way to keep you safe. But I guess I'm just too selfish for that. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry to do this to you." He couldn't meet her eyes anymore.  
  
"No," she said firmly. "No. Telling me now isn't selfish. Telling me the truth is the right thing to do. And telling me two months ago would have been even righter. Don't act like I'm some delicate little bird that you need to protect. Don't do that."   
  
He felt her glare beating down on him before he dared to lift his eyes and look at her face. "Two months ago, did you care about me enough to keep this secret for me? Could you have become a part of this conspiracy? Could you have lied to Ron and Ann and Paul and everyone else? Or would I have had to leave Pawnee?"  
  
Leslie took a slow breath. "I don't know. I wish I could say yes, but really, I don't know."  
  
Ben's gut churned again. Now came the real question. "What about now? Do I have to go home and tell Chris that we need to pack our bags because we have to leave Pawnee tomorrow? If that's what you want, I'll do it. I'm ready."  
  
She scrunched her forehead and looked away from him, her eyes glistening. "That's not what I want."  
  
"Leslie?" His heart flipped in his chest. Was there still a chance that she could forgive him for deceiving her for so long? "What do you want me to do? Just name it, and I'll do it. Anything."  
  
"I still don't know." She shook her head. "I want everyone to be safe, but—but I don't want you to leave. Not yet."  
  
She held his gaze, and the hope in his chest rose even higher. "Okay. Okay. So—so what about right now? What do you want right now?"  
  
Her chest swelled with another deep breath. "Talk to me. That's what I want. Right now. You told me some of the truth yesterday and in that email. But I want to hear it from your mouth. I want to talk to the real you. To Ben Adams."  
  
This was what he'd been wanting. What he'd been waiting for. Yet he'd been holding onto his lies for so long that it almost hurt to let them go. But it was the best kind of pain—like pulling out a splinter so the wound could start to heal. "Okay. I can do that. Where do I start?"  
  
She gazed off into space for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "Start at the beginning. Tell me about what it was like to get thrown out of office when you were mayor."  
  
 _Oh boy._ He nodded and started to speak.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Leslie felt as if she were seeing Ben with completely new eyes as she listened to him talk about being an eighteen year old kid, facing down the entire town council as they cast their unanimous votes to kick him out. She could tell that the old wound from his time as mayor of Partridge hadn't healed cleanly.  
  
Ben shook his head as he finished his sad tale. "There's no question I screwed up. I screwed up _big_. But the town council also found the perfect scapegoat for all the screw-ups they'd been making with the town budget for ten years or more. They had me, and they had Icetown. So they managed to hide every ball they'd dropped over the years by dumping the whole kit and caboodle right in my lap. And the whole town bought it. Even my dad." His voice was heavy with old bitterness.  
  
"So what you told me about your father—that was true?" she said.  
  
"Every word of it."  
  
"Did you leave right away?" She wouldn't blame him if he did. What they'd done to him was far too much for a kid his age to have to bear.  
  
He shrugged. "I tried to stick it out for a few months. I'd deferred my acceptance to Northwestern in Chicago to spend a year playing mayor, so I couldn't start up right away. But Partridge got pretty unbearable pretty fast. So when a cousin of mine who lived in Wisconsin told me I could crash with her until it was time for my freshman year to start, I jumped at the chance. I stayed with her until September, and then started up school in Chicago. I haven't been back to Partridge for more than five days at a time ever since."  
  
Leslie bit down on her tongue to stop herself from exclaiming her shock. Even when she'd been living in Bloomington for school, she'd come home at least once a week. But she'd had friends and parents who loved her to come to. Ben hadn't been so lucky.  
  
"So, is all that mess the reason you chose the corporate world over public service?"  
  
Ben sighed and leaned farther back into the couch cushions. "Not completely. I still had hope that other avenues of public service might still be worthwhile. I majored in accounting, but I got a minor in political science. The summer after my junior year I interned at a congressional office in D.C." Ben had a sour look on his face.  
  
"I take it from your tone that it didn't go well?"   
  
"At first it seemed to go great," he said. "I was in the nation's capitol, working for an honest-to-god lawmaker. The congressman seemed like a good man. I respected his policy positions, and I was happy to be contributing. I thought I was living the dream—rubbing shoulders with the people who really made a difference in our country."  
  
It did sound pretty great. "So what went wrong?"  
  
"There was this girl," Ben shook his head. "Another intern. She was smart and pretty and fun, and she seemed to like me, but when I asked her out she shot me down." He shrugged. "I'd been rejected before. I got over it. But then at the end of the summer, word of a scandal hit the news. The congressman had been caught having an affair." He met Leslie's gaze with a bitter glint in his eyes. "With one of his interns."  
  
Leslie felt sick. "With the girl you liked?"  
  
He nodded. "The very one. It was a fairly disillusioning experience, to say the least."  
  
"God, you had the worst luck. No wonder you decided the corporate world might be a better place to hang your hat."  
  
"That was pretty much my line of thinking." His face took on an almost apologetic expression. "I wanted to serve my community. I wanted to help people. To make the world a better place. But after the impeachment and then the congressional scandal I felt like my idealism had been nothing but a child's dream. I didn't believe that genuinely good public servants really existed. It was all a pleasant fantasy that people tried to hold onto to help them sleep better at night. At least in the corporate world people would be honest about their greed and self-interest. They didn't try to hide it behind pretty words and political platforms. But then I went to work for Everson." He looked out into space, his eyes bleak. "And I realized that their lies could be even worse."  
  
Leslie sucked on her bottom lip, unsure of what to say. It was a wonder his faith in humanity hadn't vanished completely.  
  
He turned his head to look at her again. "Then I came here." His lips curled up in a faint hint of a smile. "And I realized that good people and good public servants still existed. I just hadn't known where to find them."  
  
Leslie's heart flipped in her chest. She snaked her arm out over the distance between them on the couch and grasped his hand. "I'm glad you came here."  
  
"So am I."  
  
She held his gaze for a moment, her heart racing. But she couldn't let herself get too distracted by emotions. Not yet. They still had a lot of ground to cover.  
  
"So," she said, "let's move on to your adventures in corporate America. Tell me how you ended up in the medical industry."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben felt like pulling his hair out. Why wouldn't she understand? She'd been fine during his hour-long recitation of his pre-Everson work history, but now she was stuck on _this_ , and he couldn't get her past it.  
  
"There was nothing I could have done," he repeated again. "Every time I noticed one of those discrepancies, I reported it up the chain. That was my job. That was what I was supposed to do. I wasn't a forensic investigator. I was an auditor. Those aren't the same thing."  
  
"So all those little _discrepancies_ ," Leslie put air quotes around the word, "didn't make you suspicious that maybe you were working for a greedy ruthless despot?"  
  
"Ugh." He clenched his fists and pounded once on his thighs before taking a deep breath. "Yes, I was suspicious. Yes, doubts nagged the back of my mind. But most of what I found was normal, ordinary things. Little accounting blunders that anyone anywhere could have made. It's not like the suspicious stuff was pilling up in a massive, undeniable way. Because it wasn't. So I reported them, my superiors told me they were being taken care of, and I moved on. I had no cause to do anything more."  
  
Leslie opened her mouth with what was sure to be another emotionally charged accusation, but Ben cut her off. "And yes, I could have dug deeper and done some investigating on my own, but you know what would have happened then? I probably would have been reprimanded for straying from my assigned projects. I would have been transferred, or even fired. And then who knows if anyone ever would have brought the evidence to the feds?"  
  
"But don't you feel guilty?" she retorted.  
  
"Of course I feel guilty!" How could she believe otherwise? "These crimes were perpetrated under my watch. People were defrauded and hurt and even died while I was employed there. How could I not feel guilty? So yes, I do lie awake at night wondering what more I could have done. And yes, I feel culpable in my own small way for those people who relapsed after their drugs weren't available any more. I feel that blood on my hands each and every day. But every time I dissect it—every time I analyze it—I don't think I could have done any more than I did." He shook his head.  
  
"I don't know what more I can say to you," he continued. "I really don't. I'm trying to bring justice to the people who were most responsible for these crimes. And maybe, in some way, this will help make amends for my not being able to stop them from committing the crimes in the first place." He met her eyes. "But if you think I won't carry the guilt of those deaths and that suffering for the rest of my life, then you're dead wrong."  
  
Instantly Ben worried that he'd gone too far when he saw Leslie blinking back moisture from her eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have pushed you like that. I know you care. I know you feel responsible. I'm sorry."  
  
Ben scooted closer to her and took her hand again. "Hey—it's okay. I didn't mean to snap at you like that."  
  
She shook her head. "I deserved it."  
  
"No. You didn't." Ben's heart hurt. God, even when she was being a brat, all he wanted to do was hold her. _Does she even have any idea how amazing she is?_ He was inclined to think that she didn't.  
  
"Do you want to change the subject for a while?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," she said. "How about—how about you tell me more about your family?"  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
"You mean you were in Indianapolis that whole time you were supposed to be in Partridge?" Leslie exclaimed. She felt a well of outrage rising inside of her. She'd chosen this topic to stop them from fighting more, but it appeared to be having the opposite effect.  
  
Ben spread his hands and shook his head. "What else was I supposed to do? I needed to maintain my cover, and, at the time, I felt like putting a little distance between us might be a good idea."  
  
"Oh my god." Leslie put a hand to her head. It was all she could do to stop herself from throwing a pillow at him. They'd shared an intense, beautiful, emotional night together, and he'd felt like putting distance between them was a _good idea_? "So all that crap about your mom, and all that research we did—"  
  
"Hey," he interrupted, "the thing with my mom was real. She really did get in a car crash, and I really did find out about it that day. That part wasn't a lie."  
  
Sifting the truth from the lies was more complicated than Leslie had imagined. "Your mom really was in the hospital? Is she okay?"  
  
Ben wore a pained expression. "I think so. I hope so."  
  
"Why didn't you go to her?" She thought she knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from him.  
  
"Because that's exactly what Everson wanted. He wants to draw me out of hiding so his goons can finish the dirty work. That's why they tampered with my mom's breaks to make sure she had an accident."  
  
Leslie's jaw dropped and she rose to her feet, her ire overflowing. Only this time it had a new target. "He went after your mom?!" She stomped, pacing back and forth across the room. "Oh my god—that man is pure evil. He is the literal worst. You have to stop him. He must be stopped."  
  
"Exactly!" Ben sat up straight, shaking his hands at his sides in emphasis. "And that's exactly what my mom told me. We were able to talk for a few minutes, and she told me not to worry about her because taking Everson down is the most important job in my life right now. But then I slipped up and got drunk and told you too much, and so I had to pretend to be going to Partridge to maintain my cover. But that research—it was all real. It was exactly what I would have done if I'd been able to go to Partridge for real. I saved everything in a document on my laptop. I've thought about trying to mail it to her, but it seemed too risky. I want to do something to help, but my hands are tied."  
  
Leslie stopped her pacing and stared at him, her chest heaving with emotion. "I could send it to her. After you leave. I can send it to her."  
  
Ben's eyes went wide. "You'd do that for me?"  
  
"Of course I will. You put all that effort in because you love your mom. And some of it might even be things she hasn't thought of yet. Absolutely I'll send it to her."  
  
Ben pointed and wagged his finger. "Better yet, send it to her best friend, Autumn Forkner. My mom still isn't in a position to be doing much for herself. I'm sure Autumn is stepping up to take care of her."  
  
"Yes. I'll send it to both of them if I have to. Email the document to me with their addresses and I'll mail it the day after you leave."  
  
Ben's smile looked almost disbelieving. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."  
  
"No problem." She hated that normal acts of human kindness shocked him so much. No one deserved to live that kind of life. Especially not someone as good as Ben.  
  
Because he _was_ good, she realized. In spite of everything he'd been through, he was an amazingly good person. Sure, he'd made his share of mistakes—but that only made him human.   
  
Leslie sat back down beside him. "Hey—I'll check in on her, for you. I'll make sure she's all right."  
  
His eyes glistened as he looked away and nodded. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather have on the job."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
". . . conspiracy, and the big one, fourteen counts of negligent homicide," said Leslie, ticking Everson's charges off on her fingers. "Did I get them all?"  
  
Ben smiled down at his hand resting on Leslie's thigh. He still felt more than a little excited that she hadn't objected when he put it there. "You missed one," he said. "Tax fraud."  
  
"Yes! How could I forget tax fraud," she said, her eyes lighting up. "Hey—I think I read something about you and Chris standing to get some sort of financial pay-out if the conviction for tax fraud goes through. What's up with that?"  
  
Ben sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's this old IRS rule to incentivize whistleblowing. If they succeed in recovering back taxes, they pay out a percentage of the recovered funds as a reward to the person who reported the tax fraud. But I hope you don't think that had anything to do with me and Chris going to the feds, because it didn't."  
  
She shook her head and smiled. "I don't think that. You went to feds because it was the right thing to do. Because you're good guys."  
  
"Exactly." Ben felt warm all over. "We're good guys."  
  
Leslie's stomach rumbled loudly. "God, I'm starving," she said. "I don't think I've had anything but coffee and chocolate since lunch yesterday."  
  
Ben raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to make something? Or—"  
  
"JJ's. I need waffles."  
  
There was no arguing with that.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"Remember," murmured Leslie urgently, "no conversation. We order, we eat, we leave. I'm too hyped up to talk—I'll say something I shouldn't."  
  
"Got it." Ben nodded as they sat down at their table. "No talking."  
  
"Silence."  
  
"Complete silence."  
  
Leslie fidgeted and twitched constantly while they waited for their food. She felt like a seven year old taking a math test. How was she supposed to keep quite while there was so much going on inside her head?  
  
Ben smiled at her bemusedly. "You don't seem to be handling this whole silence thing too well."  
  
"Shut up." She glared at him.  
  
Finally, their food arrived. She wolfed down her double order of waffles with ravenous abandon. Waffles had never tasted so good.  
  
On her last bite her eyes went wide and she perked up as a sudden epiphany struck. "Tonya's one of your marshals!"  
  
Ben froze, his fork halfway to his mouth, looking stunned.  
  
"Crap!" Leslie covered her mouth. "Silence. Sorry."  
  
A few minutes later, after heading out and sliding back into her car, Ben said, "Just for the record, you're right. Agent Tonya Burdette is, in fact, one of the marshals handling me and Chris, along with agent Ryan Lewis."  
  
Leslie shook her head as she drove. "God. I can't believe I used to be jealous of her."  
  
"Really?" Ben sounded positively tickled. "You were jealous?"  
  
Smug idiot. If he wasn't so cute, she might almost get mad at him again.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben sat with his arm around Leslie's shoulders as she leaned against him on her couch. Yeah—he could be happy doing this pretty much forever.  
  
"I'm not trying to defend how he treated her," Ben said, "because it's true, he treated her like crap."  
  
"Yes, he did," Leslie agreed. Of course she would agree—it was her best friend they were talking about.  
  
"But he genuinely thought that she was just using him to rebound from that Mark guy, so he thought it would be fine to use her to rebound from his ex back in Atlanta. That doesn't excuse the way he drew things out after Ann started to get more serious." Ben shrugged. "I don't know. Neither of us handled this whole secret identity thing very well. I'm sorry that his mistakes ended up hurting Ann like that."  
  
"I guess I understand." Leslie snuggled a little closer. "But it still sucks."  
  
"Yes, it does." Lord, it felt good to hold her.  
  
"Did he really love her—the woman in Atlanta?"  
  
Ben nodded. "Yep. He really did. They were getting ready to move in together when he and I finally decided to go to the feds together. He felt like he had to break up in order to protect her. But he's still not over her."  
  
"That really sucks, too."   
  
"Yeah. It does." Ben held her a little tighter, wondering how long it would take him to get over Leslie. Even thinking about it hurt like hell.  
  
He closed his eyes and tried to think about something else.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
It was long after dark, and Leslie felt exhausted. There was only so much deep, soul-searching conversation a person could handle in a day, and she'd just about reached her limit. But there was one more thing she needed to ask.  
  
She cleared her throat. "So—what comes next? After you leave. What happens when you get to Atlanta?"  
  
Ben rubbed her arm with his hand and pulled her a little closer. "They'll keep us in a safe-house near the city until it's time to testify. And then we'll testify. And then we'll wait for a verdict."  
  
"And what then? What happens to you after the trial? Will you ever be able to go back to your old life?"  
  
"It depends on the verdict. The prosecutor's team went through all this with us before we came to Pawnee. If Everson and the others are guilty on most or all counts, we'll stay in protective custody a little longer to see what might happen with appeals. Then, a year or so down the road, we'll reassess the danger level, and if the threat against us has receded they'll give us a choice between taking our chances and returning to our previous lives, or they'll give us the option of permanent relocation with a permanent new identity. It all depends on the threat level and whether or not they'll need us for in-person testimony at any appeals trials."  
  
"A year?" It was even worse than she'd expected.  
  
"Or more. Nothing is certain with this kind of situation. You kind of have to take it one day at a time."  
  
Leslie's throat tightened up and she fought to blink back tears. "And what about if he's found not guilty?"  
  
Ben's voice was rough when he answered. "They'll give us the same options. But Everson is a pretty vindictive guy. Going back to our old lives would pretty much be inviting him to come after us."  
  
"So you'll either go into hiding for the rest of your life or live with a constant death threat hanging over you?" No one deserved to live like that. No one.  
  
"That about sums it up," he replied.  
  
Leslie couldn't stop her tears from welling. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.  
  
Ben was the good guy. He was the one who'd done the right thing. Yet he was being punished for it. Why should he have to give up years of his life—or more—just because he chose to do the right thing? Nothing about this was fair.  
  
"I wish it could be different," he said softly. "You have no idea how much I wish it could be different. And for what it's worth, if I really was Ben Wyatt, I'd say to hell with the Atlanta job in an instant and do everything in my power to stay right here in Pawnee for as long as possible. I just—I wanted you to know that."  
  
Leslie clutched at his shirt and buried her face against his chest as a sob escaped her throat. She couldn't think—she couldn't reason—she could only feel a horrible, bleak sense of loss.  
  
Ben didn't deserve any of this.  
  
And she didn't want him to leave. But there was nothing she could do to stop him. And she might never see him again.  
  
Everything hurt.  
  
She sobbed again.  
  
"Oh god," he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm so sorry." He wrapped his arms around her as she shook against him, sobbing even harder.  
  
"Leslie—I'm so, so sorry. This is why I tried not to get involved with you. Because I knew it would end this way. What can I do? I'm so sor—"  
  
She lifted her head and glared at him. "Just shut up and let me cry, okay? Sometimes a person just needs to cry."  
  
"Okay."  
  
She buried her face back into his chest and let the tears flow free as sobs continued to shake her body. There was nothing else she could do but cry.  
  
It took a long time for her tears to dry up and her sobbing to quiet down.  
  
She felt utterly drained. But still she clung to him. It was childish, she knew, but she didn't want to let go. If she just held on tight enough, she could pretend that he wasn't going anywhere.  
  
She was starting to understand why all of this had hit her so hard.  
  
Ben was a man she could have fallen in love with. She could see that now. With his decency and his commitment to doing the right thing, with his cute nerdiness and his adorable face, with his kindness and intelligence, with his quirky sense of humor and his persistent tendency to put the needs of others before himself, he was everything she could have fallen for permanently and irrevocably.   
  
She grasped his shirt a little tighter.   
  
She wasn't ready to let go.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Ben let a few tears roll down his own cheeks as he held Leslie against him, his heart breaking all over again.  
  
He'd had weeks—months, even—to prepare himself for this. But it hadn't been enough. Nothing would have really been enough. And for Leslie, to have it all dumped on her over the course of a day and half, he couldn't blame her for needing to cry.  
  
He wished with all his heart that there was something he could do to help her—to make things better. But what could possibly make this better?  
  
Eventually her sobbing quieted, and she lay still against his chest. He stroked her soft golden hair, and briefly let himself imagine a world where he got to hold her like this every day. He knew he shouldn't torture himself like that, but sometimes he couldn't help himself.  
  
"I think I've cried all the tears I have in me for today," she said in a raw voice, just above a whisper.  
  
Ben stroked her hair again and ran a hand up and down her back. "I don't know what else to say. I wish I knew what to say."  
  
Leslie lifted her head to meet his gaze with red eyes and a pale, weary face. She shook her head. "You don't have to say anything."  
  
Her eyes held his for another moment before flitting down to his lips. Just as he realized what was happening she moved forward, brushing her lips against his.  
  
He kissed her back. How could he not?  
  
What he didn't expect was her response.  
  
She clutched at his face and his neck, shifting her whole body onto his lap and opening her mouth to him, pulling him deeper. She ground against him, stroking and caressing him as she kissed him with a wild, wanton hunger that sent waves of heat coursing through his veins.  
  
His heart pounded as his hands eagerly explored her body and he feasted on her kiss. He grew dizzy with excitement when she gasped against his lips.  
  
He pulled back slightly, still touching and caressing her as he struggled to catch his breath. "This is insane. I'm leaving in just over two weeks. What the hell are we doing?"  
  
"I don't care if it's crazy. The next two weeks might be all we ever get, and I just want to be with you, starting right now. Spend the rest of the weekend with me. Please? I just want to be with you." Her voice cracked as she spoke.  
  
His head spun in disbelief. After all this—after all the lies and all the danger—she still wanted him. The _real_ him. It was more than he'd ever let himself hope for.  
  
God, he loved her. He might go the rest of his life loving Leslie Knope.  
  
"It's going to be so hard when I have to leave . . ." His voice came out rough with emotion.  
  
"It's going to be hard no matter what," she said, cupping his face in her palms and caressing his cheeks with her thumbs. "Nothing's going to make it easier. So let's just be together now, while we have a chance. This is what I want. What do you want?"  
  
The mixture of fear and hope on her face and in her voice overwhelmed him. What had he ever done to deserve this?  
  
"Yes," he said, unable to answer any other way. "Yes." And he captured her lips in another kiss.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie tore at Ben's buttons. The damn things wouldn't come undone fast enough. A giddy giggle escaped from her throat as she finally pushed his shirt open and ran her hands over his deceptively slender but strong body.  
  
"What's so funny?" he asked, grinning at her where she sat still perched in his lap.  
  
She shook her head, the loose curls that had fallen free from her ponytail swishing against her face. "Nothing. Everything. I don't know."  
  
She kissed him again. And again.   
  
His hand slid across the skin under her t-shirt, and he worked his way under her bra to massage her breast. She leaned into his touch and laughed again.  
  
This time Ben laughed back. "What? Are you ticklish?"  
  
"No. I just—I feel like laughing." It was either that or start crying again, and she'd had enough of tears for one day.  
  
Leslie scooted off his lap and stood up before tugging him to his feet after her.   
  
"Okay," she said, "I've got you to myself for the next thirty-six-ish hours, and we're going to make the most of it. But first, it's been nearly two days since I showered. I'm inclined to think that the rest of this evening's activities will be funner for both of us if I clean up a little first. So, how about we head upstairs to my room, and I'll take a shower, and maybe you can join me?" She wagged her eyebrows suggestively.  
  
He clung to her hand and ran the fingers of his other hand up and down her arm. "That sounds like a pretty awesome plan, to me."  
  
"Good." She cocked her head toward the stairs. "Come on."  
  
Though she'd felt utterly spent just a few minutes ago, a fresh surge of energy coursed through her. She thought it must be something like the adrenaline rush skydivers felt while they were free-falling, but before they pulled their parachutes.   
  
Everything about what she was doing was utterly insane. She'd made quite a few rash decisions in her life, but nothing quite like this. Oh well. _No regrets. No turning back._ She'd made up her mind, and nothing was going to dissuade her.  
  
Once they reached her bathroom, Leslie finished pulling Ben's shirt off of him and made quick work of his pants, too. In just a few seconds he stood in front of her wearing nothing but the hands she couldn't seem to keep off of him.  
  
She ran her fingers over every inch of him, trying to memorize every curve and contour. She never wanted to forget this. None of it.  
  
"I think you have me at a disadvantage," he murmured, hooking his fingers inside the waistbands of both her sweatpants and her panties and tugging them down all at once.   
  
She giggled again and took her hands off of him long enough to let him pull her t-shirt off over her head. She had her bra unlatched before the shirt even hit the floor.  
  
This was perfect. Nothing between them—no lies, no distance, no fabric. Everything could finally just be _real_.  
  
Ben kissed her again. He kissed her like there was no tomorrow, and she ached again for just a moment as she remembered that in two weeks there really _would_ be no tomorrow.  
  
 _No. Not now. Not thinking about that tonight._  
  
She ran her hands over his back and grabbed his ass, pulling him closer.  
  
His lips drifted off of her mouth and snaked their way down her neck. She gasped when his hand slid between her legs.  
  
Okay. She couldn't wait for the shower.  
  
"Now," she groaned.  
  
He lifted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Now?"  
  
"Get over here." She stepped to her bathroom counter, tugging him after.  
  
Pushing her scattered products out of the way, she sat on the bare counter between her two sinks and pulled Ben between her legs. "Come on. Right here, right now."  
  
Ben nodded, a dazed expression on his face, before leaning forward to kiss her one more time.  
  
Too slow. She needed more.  
  
She reached out to guide him in, and closed her eyes, breathing sharply as their bodies merged.  
  
He started to thrust, slowly and rhythmically, while she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper. She clung to his shoulders, digging her fingertips into his back.  
  
Closer. She needed him closer. He could never be close enough.  
  
"Leslie—you're amazing," Ben muttered, his lips moving against her left temple. "You're so fucking beautiful."  
  
She laughed again, though it almost came out as a sob. When he called her beautiful, she could actually believe it. Tonight, anything was possible.  
  
A few minutes later, Ben came with a shudder and a moan. Leslie continued to cling to him, wanting to hold onto that closeness for just a little longer.  
  
Eventually he shifted, placing a soft kiss on her forehead and running his fingertips along her jaw before meeting her eyes.  
  
"I guess we both really needed that," he said, wearing a boyish grin.  
  
"Yes. Most definitely." And she felt confident that she'd need it several more times before the weekend was out. "And now," she added, "I _really_ need that shower. Come on."  
  
Once again, he followed where she led.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
In the dim light of a single lamp, Chris stared down at the text glowing up at him from the screen of his phone.   
  
"Spending weekend with Leslie. Everything's good. Don't worry."  
  
He sighed. But he would worry. Just like he'd worried all day.  
  
He put his phone down and walked over to his bed where his suitcases sat, packed and ready to go.   
  
"I guess it's time to put these away," he whispered aloud.  
  
One at a time he lifted his carefully folded and arranged clothes out of the suitcases and hung them in his closet or placed them in drawers. The condo was utterly, eerily silent around him.  
  
He'd never felt more alone in his life.  
  
When Chris reached the bottom of his suitcase, he stared at the book lying there.   
  
It was a beautifully illustrated copy of the _Tao Te Ching_ —one of the few possessions he'd managed to salvage from his previous life.   
  
Kelsey gave it to him as a gift not long before they broke up.  
  
It hadn't been a special occasion. She'd simply seen it in a book shop, and bought it for him because she thought he'd like it.  
  
He picked it up and ran his fingers along the spine, knowing that what he was about to do would draw him into a spiral he might not be able to escape from.  
  
He did it anyway.  
  
Cracking the spine, he lifted out the bookmark: a single strip of three photos from a novelty photo-booth.  
  
He and Kelsey sat side by side, her arm around his shoulders, their cheeks pressed together as they smiled and made silly faces for the camera.  
  
They were the only pictures of Kelsey he had left, and he hadn't looked at them in nearly a year.  
  
Chris felt his heart contract painfully as he sank into his desk chair, staring at her face. He could still remember the scent of her shampoo. The sound of her laughter. The glint of her eyes in the moonlight.  
  
He stared at those photos long into the night, desperately trying to remember what it felt like to be happy.  
  
  
TBC


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter originally published on LiveJournal in January 2013

Ben rested his cheek against Leslie's belly, draping an arm across her and casually gripping her hip. He let his head rise and sink with her breath and smiled in utter contentment.  
  
 _So this is what happiness feels like. I'd almost forgotten._  
  
Leslie sighed. "I don't know if I mentioned this last night, but you are _really_ good at that."  
  
He smiled against her skin. "You're welcome. And you did mention it, but I don't mind hearing it again, considering how ridiculously out of practice I am."  
  
"Trust me—it doesn't show." She ran her fingers through his hair.  
  
He laughed softly, and planted a kiss beside her belly button. "Just like riding a bicycle, I guess."  
  
"Hmm. I'm not sure how much I like that analogy …"  
  
He laughed again. "Poor choice of words. Sorry."  
  
"Mmm." She ruffled his hair again. "So—you weren't _with_ anyone when everything at Everson's went down?"  
  
Ben rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "No. My last relationship ended about two months before I was promoted to head up the internal auditing department. And I'm glad it did, after seeing what Chris went through with Kelsey."  
  
Leslie scooted to sit up against the headboard, and Ben followed her lead. "Nothing since?"  
  
He shrugged and then snuggled up against her. The less physical distance between them, the better. "I had a one night stand right before I went to the FBI. But I don't usually do that sort of thing. I'm no good at it."  
  
"I'm not very good at it, either." She threaded her fingers through his and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Huh. I'm doing the math, and that really has been a long time. Not that I'm much better. My last relationship lasted about 6 weeks, and I called it off right after Valentine's Day."  
  
Ben frowned. Putting himself in the guy's shoes, that had to suck. Bad. But here in Leslie's bed, Ben felt pretty good about it.  
  
"And you haven't, you know, tried dating anyone since then?" he asked.  
  
She shook her head lightly and dropped a kiss on his upper arm. "My mind's been on other things. Like keeping my job. And saving my department. And a certain budget consultant who drives me absolutely crazy."  
  
Ben smiled again and trailed his fingers across her skin, tracing the outlines of her body. He'd been getting to know it pretty well for the past twelve or so hours, but the better he knew it, the more he wanted.  
  
He hadn't felt this kind of heady excitement over a new relationship since he was in his early twenties. How had he gotten so jaded and cynical so quickly?  
  
"My mind has been on things other than relationships for—way too long," he confessed. "I started making my career the priority over everything else not long after graduating from college. It got me a big paycheck and a nice condo, but not much else." He spoke softly, considering his words carefully. These thoughts had been swirling in his head for a long time now, but he'd never put them together like this before. "Somewhere along the line I started living for work instead of living for myself. And now that my career is gone and all I have left is myself, I see how empty that was. No wonder none of my relationships over the past decade lasted longer than five months. I was an idiot. I had no idea what I was giving up."  
  
Leslie remained silent, letting him get his words out without interruption. She simply started rubbing a soothing hand across his back and held his hand a little firmer.  
  
"But I know now," he said. "I came here and saw what you and everyone around you had. You're more than just coworkers. You're like an extended family. You care about each other, and about your community, and no one gets forgotten or overlooked. Everyone matters—not just because of what they can do for the bottom line, but because of who they are. I haven't had something like this since I was a kid. I didn't realize how much I missed it because I hadn't realized this was something grown-ups could still have."  
  
And in a few weeks it would be gone. Maybe for good.   
  
His throat felt tight. He couldn't let himself think about it. Not yet. He needed to soak up enough happiness for the next two weeks to last him for a long, long time.  
  
"I'm really glad they sent me here," he concluded simply.  
  
"Me too," she said, burying her face against his chest.  
  
They stayed there, holding each other, until their rumbling stomachs drove them out of bed and down to the kitchen for some breakfast.  
  
As they finished their eggs and toast (Leslie had made hers into cinnamon toast. Of course.), she asked, "So, do you want to stay in, today, or go out?"  
  
He swallowed his bite of toast. "Where would we go?"  
  
She shrugged. "The zoo is fun on Sundays. Have you been to the zoo yet? Or we could go for a walk. Sometimes on Sundays I go pick up litter in the parks, or go grocery shopping. But that stuff is boring. We could—"  
  
"I don't think it's boring," Ben said without thinking.  
  
Leslie raised her eyebrows. "Really? That stuff is just my regular busywork. Just, normal life."  
  
"Yeah. That's what I like about it. I—I kind of want to be normal for a while, you know?"  
  
Her soft smile was more than enough to let him know that she understood.  
  
Less than an hour later they trudged through Circle Park wearing work gloves and carrying trash bags. But Ben's heart had never felt lighter. As they picked up litter in and around the park they swapped stories about their childhoods. Ben hadn't yet encountered Leslie's mom (his work hadn't led him to interact with anyone from the school district), but she sounded like someone who would've gotten along with his mom very well. It was fun imagining Leslie as a little girl with golden pig-tails, out on the weekend with her parents to do the same sorts of community service that she still volunteered her time for as an adult.  
  
After they finished, Ben admitted that he was starting to feel a little grimy. "These are the same clothes I wore out to the shooting hill with Ron yesterday morning. I think I need to go pick up some clean stuff from home. Especially if you want me to stay over tonight. I mean—do you want me to stay?"  
  
"Yes! Of course I do. Okay. So, we'll go by your place."  
  
Ben narrowed his eyes. "You do know we might have to talk to Chris. You don't mind, do you?"  
  
Leslie took a deep breath. "I don't mind. Actually, I think I'd like to talk to Chris."  
  
"Really?" Ben raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Really." Leslie nodded resolutely.  
  
"Okay, then." Ben's own stomach stirred uncomfortably. He'd been pretty crappy to Chris through this whole crazy process and he didn't think he could apologize properly with Leslie there. But it looked like he had no choice. "Let's go see Chris."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
After a night of insomniac misery, Chris had managed to get a little under two hours of sleep early in the morning, only to wake with the sun.  
  
But the dawn of a new day brought him no relief.  
  
The loneliness and regret gnawed at him. All the bad feelings that he'd been ignoring or delaying or postponing for the past year had burst up from the depths of his soul, and threatened to drown him.  
  
After forcing down a smoothie, he spent the morning trying to meditate. Unfortunately, every time he closed his eyes, Kelsey's face floated to the forefront of his consciousness. And every time he opened them back up, he felt overwhelmed by the emptiness of the life he was leading here.  
  
There was no answer and no hope.  
  
As the day crept toward noon, he was startled from his depressed stupor by the sound of the front door opening. He raised his head from where he sat, slumped on the floor in front of the sofa, and turned to look.  
  
Ben stepped inside, with Leslie close behind him. Their hands were clasped and both of them looked . . . they looked happy.  
  
Chris's heart twisted in his chest.  
  
 _Damn it. Why now? Why today?_  
  
Ben's smile took on a sheepish quirk when he met Chris's eyes. "Hey you. How—" his eyes narrowed, his smile fading a little more, "—how are you doing?"  
  
"I—am," Chris replied, his voice trailing off as his brain stalled. He had nothing to say to that question.  
  
"Hi, Chris," said Leslie softly, a friendly smile on her face.  
  
"Hello."  
  
Ben stepped a little farther into the room. "Chris, I, uh, just wanted to say that I'm sorry. About the craziness for the last little while. I know I wasn't easy to deal with, and, uh, you were great. You were really patient. And great. And I wanted you to know that I appreciate it. And I'm very sorry."  
  
Chris's throat felt tight as he nodded. Patience. He may not have love. Or a home. Or safety. Or real friends. But at least he had patience. "Thank you," he choked out.  
  
Ben sighed. "Okay. Thanks. Really. Um—I'm going to go pack an overnight bag and head back out with Leslie. I'll just be a minute." With a nod he turned and jogged up the stairs, leaving Leslie standing there, smiling.  
  
What was the protocol for this situation? How did one re-introduce oneself to his ex-girlfriend's best friend who was now his roommate's lover, and who now knew that he wasn't who he said he was? He stretched his legs and pushed up on the couch to lever himself to his feet. He met her eyes, and found he had literally no idea what to say.  
  
Fortunately, Leslie didn't have the same problem.  
  
She stepped toward him. "You're a good man, Chris," she said.  
  
He blinked in surprise. "What?"  
  
"You're a good man," she repeated. "I know you and I have had our difficulties. And I still don't like the way you treated Ann. But I understand why, now. Ben told me about Kelsey." She took a breath before continuing. "He told me about everything. And I understand. You're a good man. You sacrificed a good life to see that justice would be done. Not many people would have the strength to do that. And I just wanted to say—thank you."  
  
 _Thank you?_ Chris blinked hard as he felt tears welling in his eyes.  
  
Leslie stepped around the couch to stand immediately in front of him. "Thank you, Chris. Thank you for making those sacrifices. Thank you for being willing to do the right thing, no matter what the cost. Just—thank you."  
  
"No one has ever thanked me for this, before." Chris stood, looking down on her in astonishment. Of all the possible reactions for someone to have, this was the last he ever would have expected.  
  
Her smile brightened. "I'm glad I'm the first. But I won't be the last. I'm certain of it." Without another word she spread her arms and stepped forward to pull him into a warm embrace.  
  
He hugged her back, and sniffled. "I'm beginning to understand why Ben cares for you so deeply. You're a remarkable woman, Leslie Knope."  
  
"And you're a remarkable man," she said, stepping back from the embrace and giving him a firm pat on the shoulder. "I feel lucky to know you."  
  
"Thank you." He had no other words.  
  
When Ben and Leslie left, again, he still felt very alone. But he didn't feel quite so lost anymore. He had a purpose. He was a good man. And people would thank him for this, someday.  
  
It was a scant comfort, but at a time like this, every little bit helped.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
"This feels weird," said Leslie as she wrapped the final lock of her hair around the curling iron. She raised her voice so that Ben would hear her out in the bedroom, where he was adjusting his tie in the dresser mirror.  
  
"What feels weird?" he called back.  
  
Leslie hit her curls with a little hairspray before answering. "Getting ready for work, together."  
  
She stepped into her bedroom, and Ben turned to meet her eyes with that boyish grin she'd grown so fond of. "I kind of like it," he said.  
  
She smiled back. "I like it, too. But it still feels weird—just going to work again. Pretending that everything is still normal, when we both know it isn't."  
  
Ben sighed, his smile falling a little. "I know the lying thing won't be easy for you. I'm sorry. But it's just for a few weeks. You'll manage ju—"  
  
"I know, I know," she cut him off, waving her hands in front of her. "You don't need to remind me how soon you're leaving. I don't want to think about that, today. Okay?"  
  
His lips were tight as he nodded in reply. "Okay."  
  
Naturally, all day long Leslie couldn't think about anything else. Ben was leaving in just over two weeks.   
  
Flying the coop. Gone. Across country, tucked away in a "safe house," and forbidden any contact with the outside world.  
  
Yet, here they were at work. Acting as if it was just another normal day.  
  
Leslie had never been one to resent the routine tasks of her job. On the contrary, she relished them. Every report written or read, every phone call, every planning meeting, it all added up to a wonderful whole that made her city so much better. She was proud of that daily grind.  
  
But right now it actually felt insignificant.  
  
On the other side of the building was a man she cared about very much, who was leaving in two weeks, and who she might never see again. How could she possibly focus on normal work when she needed to squeeze in every possible moment with him? It didn't seem right.  
  
By ten a.m. she already couldn't stand it. She texted him to meet her in ten minutes in one of the conference rooms, and when he showed up she locked the door, pulled him into the corner and attacked his face with her lips.  
  
After a few minutes of serious making out, he pulled back for air. "Not that I mind all this, but, uh, we probably shouldn't get caught. The reporting chain is a little murky, but there's a chance you could get some sort of official reprimand for this, and I don't want to leave you with any kind of trouble . . ."  
  
"Ugh. Just shut up." She pulled him back in for more making out, clinging to him even more tightly. Why did he have to be so reasonable and practical? The rational part of her brain tried to remind her that he'd had a year to get used to the expectation that his life wasn't his own anymore, and that his future depended entirely upon the results of the trial and any subsequent appeals. But she hadn't, damn it! And her irrational brain wasn't ready to stop fighting, yet.  
  
Eventually she slowed things down, settling into a tight hug. She leaned her head and against his shoulder and tried to relish the feeling of his arms around her.  
  
So little time . . .  
  
"I'm meeting Ann for lunch in two hours," she murmured.  
  
"I remember."  
  
"I have to tell her about us. I have to start lying."  
  
He ran his hand over her hair and held her a little tighter with his other arm. "I know. Do you need to practice again—or do you think you've got it covered?"  
  
"I don't need to practice. But I still hate it." It gnawed at her. Ann could be trusted. Leslie knew she could be. But it wasn't her secret to share.  
  
"I know you do. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's okay." She sighed. "I'll be okay." But would Ann? Once the truth finally came out, would Ann be able to forgive her?  
  
"Hey," said Ben, "can I take you out on a date tonight? A real one? We haven't been on a real date, yet."  
  
She tipped her head to smile up at him. He tried so hard to make things normal and right and good. It made her heart glad. "Yeah. I'd like that."  
  
"Great. Dress up. I'll take you to a nice restaurant." His eyes sparkled with excitement. "Pick you up at seven?"  
  
"Seven sounds perfect."  
  
Leslie forced herself to get back to work until her lunch. She wasn't sure which was worse—Ben leaving, or having to lie to Ann for the next two and a half weeks.   
  
It was pretty much a toss-up.  
  
Ann reacted to the news much as Leslie expected.  
  
"I still think this is a mistake," Ann said, shaking her head and jabbing at her salad with a fork. "Long distance is hard, and I'm scared you're just going to get hurt."  
  
Leslie took a deep breath. "You're probably right. It probably is a mistake, and I probably will get hurt. But it's my mistake to make. And, with the slight chance that this really will work out and Ben and I really can make it," she shook her head, "to me, it's worth the risk. I really care about him, and I think it's worth the risk."  
  
Ann bit her bottom lip, her eyes still troubled, but she reached out to grasp Leslie's hand. "If that's how you really feel, then I'll stand by you. Always. But it's not going to stop me from worrying."  
  
Leslie smiled. Keeping up the lies wouldn't be easy, but moments like this made her think that in the end, Ann would understand. When all was said and done, they'd be able to make things right. Because that's what best friends did. "I'm glad you worry. Thank you for worrying."  
  
Ann smiled. "That's my job."  
  
And that's why she was the most perfect and beautiful best friend in the world.  
  
Leslie only managed to see Ben for a few minutes that afternoon, and her eagerness for their date grew by the hour. It didn't matter if she'd spent an entire day and a half with him over the weekend—it would never be enough.   
  
She made it home by six and spent the next hour primping—freshening up her make-up, pinning up her hair, and changing into a pretty plum-colored dress that she hadn't had occasion to wear in a good long time.  
  
Though Leslie wasn't a big fan of first dates, she'd always enjoyed subsequent dates. Going out with actual boyfriends rather than mere prospects. The food—the atmosphere—the conversation—it was always something she looked forward to. For a short while she let herself imagine that this was just a normal date with an awesome and adorable new boyfriend. But as seven o'clock drew closer, the harsh reality began to worm its way back to the forefront of her mind.  
  
She wanted Ben so much. He fit so perfectly into her life in so many ways. _Crap. Here come the tears again._  
  
No. No no no. She was going to be happy for these two weeks, damn it! Happy!  
  
She managed to rein in her emotions until she heard the doorbell ring. She rushed to the front door and grinned in delight when she opened it to see Ben dressed in his nicest suit, bearing a beautiful bouquet of flowers.  
  
God, she wanted him so much.  
  
She took a few deep breaths to steady herself. "They're lovely! Thank you so much," she said, taking the flowers and navigating the clutter on the way to her kitchen to pop them in a vase. As soon as she had them in water, she turned back to the handsome man with the wonderful smile standing there, staring at her with adoring eyes.  
  
Dinner could wait.  
  
She attacked his face again. He didn't seem to mind. Until she started tugging at his belt.  
  
"Whoa," he inched back from her. "Don't you want to wait until after we go out?"  
  
"No. Absolutely not."  
  
He raised his eyebrows, looking a bit disbelieving, but still willing. "Okay, then."  
  
It didn't take long for her to get him back into the front room and down on her couch. Minus the pants, of course.  
  
She kicked off her panties and straddled his lap, sinking down with a long sigh of relief. This was exactly what she'd been needing all day long.  
  
As they moved together, Leslie tried to savor every moment—to memorize each sensation as it came. She'd already been so keyed up that it didn't take her long to go over the edge, and Ben followed soon after. She slumped forward, leaning against him and wrapping herself around him to take in the last delicious waves of pleasure.  
  
Was it possible to store up these feelings in some sort of memory-bank, so that in the long, empty year to come she could pull them out whenever she needed them?  
  
Probably not, but she was determined to try.  
  
After taking a few minutes to collect herself, she sat back up and said, "Okay. We can go to dinner now."  
  
Ben started to chuckle. "Maybe we should get dressed first."  
  
"Yeah. Good call."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The first few days of the new week passed in a surreal blur for Ben. He still dealt with the little details of putting together their final financial reports and plans for Pawnee, but in between work his day was interrupted with moments of sheer, dreamlike bliss.  
  
Ten minute rendezvous with Leslie in quite meeting rooms for some secret making out. Holding her hand under the table at lunch. Entwining his body with hers before sleeping every night and first thing upon waking every morning. And the quiet moments in the evenings, where they laughed over dinner or snuggled on her bed while watching TV.   
  
It was perfect.  
  
And he tried with all his might to push back any thoughts of how fleeting it would be.  
  
 _If only … If only …_  
  
Thursday morning as he sat at his desk working on the long-term plan for Public Works, he got a call on his cell from Agent Burdette.  
  
"Yeah?" he said, answering.  
  
"Hey, we need to talk to you guys about our plans for the future. Can we meet this evening? Your place at six-thirty?"  
  
Ben closed his eyes and tried to banish the implications of the word "future" from his thoughts. "Yeah. Sure. I'll talk to Chris. We don't have any fixed plans."  
  
"Okay. See you tonight."  
  
When he broke the news to Leslie less than an hour later, she looked momentarily stunned—as if she had been pinched.  
  
She blinked a few times. "Oh. So—what do think she needs to talk about?"  
  
Ben sighed. He knew that the more they talked about this, the worse they would both feel. "You know. The packing up. The moving. What to do with the stuff we want to keep. The exact schedule. That sort of thing."  
  
"Yep. Okay. Yeah." Leslie nodded slowly. "I guess you do have to work out the logistics. That makes sense. So . . . I guess I won't see you tonight?"  
  
The resigned tone in her voice made his heart ache. "It probably won't take all night. I can call you when they're gone. If—if you want?"  
  
Leslie's eyes flitted up to meet his gaze, and then turned down again. "Yes. Go ahead. Call me when they leave. Maybe we can still . . .?" She shook her head and shrugged.  
  
"Yeah. Maybe."  
  
The dread of facing a long discussion of the very future he didn't want to think about dragged Ben down for the rest of the day, just like those stupid ankle weights Chris gave him for his last birthday.   
  
The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was the harsh reality of just how soon he'd be leaving the town he'd started to think of as "home," and the woman he'd learned to love.  
  
Would he and Chris ever stop being fate's punching bag? Would they ever have the chance to be truly happy again? At times, Ben seriously doubted it.  
  
Which was why the marshals' news caught him so off guard.  
  
"The trial's been delayed, again," said Agent Lewis, sitting across from him in the living room.  
  
Ben blinked in surprise, and he heard Chris drawing in a long, slow breath beside him.  
  
"I—what does that mean?" said Chris. "For _us_?"  
  
"It means you don't need to be in Atlanta until just before the new trial date, which is in the first week of March," replied Agent Burdette.  
  
"So we can stay?" The words burst from Ben's lips as soon as the thought entered his brain, and he felt immediately self-conscious about how much he'd sounded like a kid being told he could eat all his Halloween candy in one night.  
  
Agent Burdette raised an eyebrow and the corners of her lips quirked up slightly. "That is one of the possibilities, yes."  
  
Chris cleared his throat. "Don't be hasty, Ben. Let's hear all our options before making a decision."  
  
The hard edge in Chris's voice gave Ben pause. "Uh—yes. Yes. Let's hear it all. Okay."  
  
Burdette looked back and forth between the two of them before nodding briefly and continuing. "The first option is staying here. We've covertly contacted your landlady, and she hasn't leased the condo to anyone else, yet. You can probably re-up your lease and spread the word that your Atlanta job fell through. It would be easy to change your cover story to say that you're staying here while you look for new work. The problem with that is that I don't know if you'd be able to maintain that cover for the entire three month extension without _actually_ looking for work."  
  
"Which isn't out of the question," broke in Lewis. "It just complicates things."  
  
Ben nodded. Complications. Always more complications. But the chance to stay— _three more months!_ —was more than worth it. Wasn't it? "What are the other options?"  
  
"We can get you new cover identities and move you out again," replied Lewis.  
  
"Or we can stick you back in a safe-house somewhere, and keep you on what amounts to house arrest. You've done that routine already. You know the drill." Burdette spoke with a tone of finality.  
  
"And that's it?" Ben asked.  
  
Lewis nodded. "That's it."  
  
There was no contest. None whatsoever. They got to stay.  
  
A new lightness filled Ben's chest.  
  
It felt like the first day of summer break from school.  
  
Until Chris spoke again.  
  
"I don't think either of us would agree to another safe-house," he said. "But another relocation might be in our best interest."  
  
"Wait—what?" Chris couldn't be serious.  
  
Chris held up a hand. "I think we need to discuss this before we make a final decision." He looked back at the marshals. "How long do we have to decide?"  
  
"Until Sunday night. We'll need all of next week to put together new cover identities together if that's what you decide," replied Burdette.  
  
Ben frowned, but held his tongue. He'd trampled all over Chris's wishes for months now. He could give him a real discussion. He could give him a day or two. Ben owed him that much.  
  
"Okay," said Chris. "We'll call you before the end of the weekend to let you know. Is that everything?"  
  
Lewis nodded. "That covers it."  
  
They said their goodbyes and sent the marshals on their way back to Indy.  
  
Once the door was closed, Ben turned to Chris. "Okay. So—explain to me why we need to talk about this before making up our minds?"  
  
"You're thinking with your heart instead of your mind," replied Chris, striding back to an armchair in the living room and sitting down.  
  
Ben raked a hand through his hair and stood in the middle of the room, too restless to sit down. "What's wrong with that? I—I don't see how staying here would be bad, or not smart, or not safe, or—or anything else."  
  
"You know the longer we stay in one place, the greater the possibility that evidence of our being here will make its way back to Everson."  
  
"Our cover here is solid," Ben insisted.  
  
"But will it always be?" Chris replied. "With every change to our story, the more cracks there will be. And a fake job hunt will expose us to more scrutiny, and more gossip."  
  
Ben shifted back and forth on his feet. Okay. So, Chris had a point. But still— "The chances of word getting back to Everson are miniscule."  
  
"Slightly less miniscule the longer we stay."  
  
"Only slightly," said Ben, holding his thumb and pointer finger less than a centimeter apart.  
  
They held each other's gaze for a moment. "Are you really that miserable here?" Ben finally asked.  
  
Chris's eyes flicked down. "I'll be miserable anywhere. At least, until this trial is finally over."  
  
"So why not stay? You have friends here. Really—you do."  
  
"I know." Chris nodded slowly. "I do. But I worry—" He hesitated.  
  
Ben frowned. "What do you worry?"  
  
Chris met his eyes. "Does Leslie know you're in love with her?"  
  
"I—" Ben stammered, surprised by the question. "I—I haven't told her, yet. I feel like it's . . . premature."  
  
"Does _she_ love _you_?" Chris asked.  
  
Ben swallowed hard and sank into the nearest armchair. "I—No. I think she could, if we had enough time. But right now—right now that's not what we have. This is just—I—I think it's just her way of saying goodbye to what might have been."  
  
Admitting the truth out loud hurt. Not that saying it out loud made it any truer than it had been when he'd merely thought it. But saying it—admitting it—gave it a sharper edge. And it cut.  
  
Chris nodded. "That's what I thought. So, by staying here for three more months you hope to—what? Make her fall in love with you, and fall even deeper yourself while you're at it? What good will that do either of you? The trial will still come, and you'll still be cut off from each other for a year or longer. Do you really expect her to wait all that time, hoping you'll finally be free to come back? Wasting the prime of her life waiting for something that might never happen? Is that really what you want for her?"  
  
Chris's words stabbed into Ben's already open wound.  
  
Damn it.  
  
"Is it what you want?" Chris repeated.  
  
"Of course it's not," snapped Ben. He wanted to throw something. To scream at the heavens. To curse whatever it was that decided this would be his lot in life. He softened his voice. "Of course it's not."  
  
He put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands. "I don't want to leave."  
  
"I know," replied Chris with sympathy in his voice.  
  
Ben took a few breaths. "Can I have a day or two to think this over?" He raised his eyes to meet Chris's gaze.  
  
Chris nodded. "Sure. And—I'm going to let you make this call. If you decide to stay, I'll support you. If you decide to go, I'll back you on that, too. This one is your choice to make."  
  
Ben clenched his teeth together and nodded.   
  
So much for his perfect week.  
  
  
TBC


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter originally published on LiveJournal in January 2013

By the time eight o'clock rolled around, Leslie felt ready to jump out of her skin. She swiped the mop across her kitchen floor with a tense furiousness that she normally only brought to work projects.  
  
She'd already done the dishes, started a load of laundry, scrubbed her toilet and bathroom sink and written a few memos. And Ben still hadn't called.   
  
How long was this meeting supposed to last? It wasn't like they were packing up and moving away tonight.  
  
She froze, the mop hovering over the ground, dripping a steady stream of pine-scented suds on the ground. Oh god. What if they _were_ moving out tonight, and he just hadn't wanted to tell her?  
  
Her heart raced in her chest and she set the mop down with a splat, before sinking into the nearest kitchen chair.   
  
_No,_ she thought. _I'm over-reacting. He wouldn't do that me. He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye._  
  
She took a few steadying breaths before returning to her mopping, the temporary panic now under control. Until it occurred to her that maybe it wasn't Ben's choice. Maybe the marshals had bundled him and Chris up and hauled them away before they had a chance to protest.  
  
 _How dare they?_  
  
Leslie had almost worked up enough ire to dial up the Indianapolis Federal Marshals office to lodge a formal complaint when her phone finally rang.  
  
 _Thank god._ "Hey Ben!" she answered as cheerily as she could, trying not to think about the fact that at the worst he could be calling to say goodbye and at the best he spent the evening discussing the schedule for his imminent move. "I was just catching up on some chores. Keeping up with the daily grind. Focusing on my place. My home sweet home. And I wasn't thinking of you. At all. But I'm glad to hear from you. How did your meeting go?" There. That didn't sound too obsessive. Did it?  
  
"Uh . . ." Ben sounded puzzled, ". . . it went fine, I guess. Are you okay? Do you want me to come over tonight?"  
  
"Yes!" She stopped and took a breath. "I mean, yes to both. I'm fine, and I'd love to see you tonight. If you want to?"  
  
"I do. I do want to."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"I'll be there in ten minutes."  
  
"See you then."  
  
Leslie did her best to act casual when he arrived, offering him some coffee and throwing out a few laid-back questions about when he thought he'd start packing. So why did Ben seem so fidgety and nervous?  
  
He gripped his coffee mug tightly. "Can we, uh, not talk about the marshals, right now? I just—this is stuff I didn't want to have to think about, yet."  
  
Leslie sucked on the inside of her lower lip, holding her tongue, and nodded. So, he didn't want to talk. That was fine. At least it meant he wasn't leaving tomorrow, or anything. Because if he was, he'd definitely talk about it. Right? So she could keep quiet for a few more days, and give him time to—  
  
Ben abruptly set his mug down on the counter and crossed the kitchen in three quick strides to wrap his arms around her. His kiss was tender and lingering, and he cradled her against him as if she was something fragile and precious that he didn't want to break.  
  
When their lips parted, Ben leaned his forehead against hers and continued to hold her close.  
  
"Thank you," he said softly.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For just—for being who you are. And for being here for me, even though I probably don't deserve you."  
  
Leslie frowned a little. He didn't really feel that way, did he? "Ben—are you all right?"  
  
He shook his head. "Not really. But I'm better when I'm with you. I'm just so glad I have you in my life."  
  
Leslie's breath shook a little as she drew it in. A small part of her at the back of her mind recognized that there was something terribly unhealthy about her relationship with Ben. But the rest of her chose to move full-steam ahead instead of heeding that misgiving. She could deal with the consequences later. When he was gone.  
  
"I'm glad I have you, too," she replied, and kissed him again. And again. And again.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben eyed the hastily-printed invitation in his hands, bemusedly reading the request that he bring "Avatar," a 3D television, and 50 pairs of 3D glasses. He wondered how many of April and Andy's guests would actually bring whatever outlandish items they'd been assigned. Maybe he'd bring a nice bottle of wine instead . . .  
  
He glanced across the office at Chris. "What did they ask you to bring?"  
  
"Cake," said Chris, he voice only slightly less melancholy than it had been the past few days. "I do have a wonderful recipe for a fruit-reduction sweetened vegetable loaf. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity to try it out—"  
  
 _On second thought, maybe I'll buy a cake,_ thought Ben, as Chris began to wax poetic about the vegetable loaf.  
  
When Andy had first rolled up on his in-line skates and shoved the invitation at him, Ben hadn't been sure he wanted to spend one of what might be his final precious nights in Pawnee at what would undoubtedly be a highly disorganized and crazy party hosted by Andy and April. But the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to go. If he decided to leave on schedule instead of prolonging his stay (his throat still constricted at the thought) this would be the perfect farewell to all the great people he'd become friends with. It would also give him a chance to really think about what it would mean for all these different relationships if he chose to stay longer.  
  
When he met up with Leslie a little later in the day, she agreed that going to the party was absolutely the right thing to do. But they agreed to arrive separately—Ben would ride with Chris. Ben was determined that the dubious ethical appropriateness of their relationship wouldn't cause her any problems after he'd left.  
  
That evening Chris raised an eyebrow at him as Ben carried a store-bought cake to the car, but refrained from comment. After they'd settled into the car and headed out to Andy's house (Or was it his friend's house that he was just crashing at? Ben still hadn't quite figured out how Andy survived to adulthood.) Chris asked, "Have you told Leslie about the change, yet?"  
  
Ben squeezed his lips together and shook his head. "No. I don't know if I should. I don't want to force this decision into her lap, or make her feel obligated to ask me to stay or anything like that."  
  
"I understand," replied Chris. "However, if you choose to stay, your presence here will undoubtedly make a huge impact on her life. Doesn't she have the right to participate in the decision-making process when her future is at stake? As you once pointed out to me, I made all the decisions for Kelsey. I denied her the right to choose for herself. And that was a mistake. One I most sorely regret." Chris shook his head slowly. "I think you need to tell her. Make her a part of this process."  
  
Ben's gut stirred uncomfortably. He hated to admit it, but Chris was right. He couldn't make this choice unilaterally. Leslie had too much at stake.  
  
Now he just needed to find the right moment to bring it up.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie chatted with Ben and Chris for a few minutes when they first arrived (thank god Ben brought a real cake—that vegetable thing looked like something out of her nightmares), but then moved on to circulate the room. Ben had been adamant that he didn't want their relationship going public, because he was afraid it would leave her open to accusations of favoritism that could haunt her for months.  
  
It was a sweet sentiment, and probably had at least a grain of truth, but she still didn't like it. She wished she could be allowed to pretend they were in a real relationship, even if it was just for one night.  
  
Not long into the party, Leslie noticed a distinct imbalance in the ratio of food to guests. Way too many guests to way too little food. If she couldn’t hang out with her boyfriend, maybe she could at least be of service to the hosts.  
  
She made her way to the kitchen to offer Andy some help, only to be surprised by April appearing to ask his opinion of her little white dress, followed quickly by their confession that the party was in fact a surprise wedding.  
  
 _Oh god. They've been dating less than two months. They aren't ready for marriage. They're going to ruin their lives over this._  
  
She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "Why are you doing this? Why is this . . . wonderful thing happening?"  
  
Their story of a spontaneous decision to marry just yesterday did nothing to reassure her. No. She had to stop this. She had to save them. A reasonable person couldn't upend their whole life to marry someone they'd dated for less than two months. Could they?  
  
A little voice at the back of her head nagged her that it had been just under two months since the first time she kissed Ben, but she shook it off. It was time to act.  
  
She had to save her friends from themselves.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben had been stressing over finding the right moment to share his news with Leslie ever since arriving at the party. But really, there was no _right time_ to share something like this. He'd learned his lesson about keeping secrets from her. He needed to just man up and tell her.  
  
The next time he saw her, coming out of the kitchen where Andy and April stood laughing conspiratorially in a corner, he pulled her aside. "Hey, can we talk about something in private for a minute?"  
  
She blinked in surprise. "No. What? Yes. Uh—sure."  
  
"Is something wrong?" There was no such thing as a right time, but there was certainly such thing as a _wrong time_ , and if this was one, he needed to hold back.  
  
She shook her head. "I don't know. There's a thing." She gestured strangely, half-pointing back in the direction of the kitchen. Her eyes narrowed. "But you need to talk?"  
  
"I was hoping we could, but if now's not a good time—?"  
  
"No. Let's go talk."  
  
Ben nodded warily, wondering if he really had cause to be nervous (other than the obvious), or if he was just being paranoid. He led her down the hall and pulled her into the bathroom, locking the door behind them.  
  
Leslie frowned at him. "What's going on?"  
  
Ben took a deep breath. "The marshals told us something last night, and I wasn't sure if I should tell you, but I've been thinking about it, and you have the right to know."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"The trial's been delayed again. Until the first week of March. The marshals gave us until Sunday night to make up our minds if we want to try to maintain our current cover and stay here, or if we want to be relocated again."  
  
Leslie took a faltering step back, and leaned against the vanity, gripping the lip of the counter with her fingers.  
  
Oh boy. Was this good shock, or bad shock?  
  
"I—I—I don't mean to, to put pressure on you," Ben stammered. "I know that if we stay it could cause a lot of problems for you. You'd have to keep lying to all your friends. You'd have to be a part of our little conspiracy, and check with us regularly to make sure we all have our stories straight. And the longer we stay here the greater the risk that evidence of us will get out and Everson will find us, which would put you and everyone around us in danger. There's just—there's a lot of really good reasons why we should leave." He still couldn’t read the shock on her face, so he kept babbling. What else was he supposed to do? "So—so I guess what I'm trying to say is: I want to stay. I have a really, really good reason to stay. But—uh—I think maybe it would be for the best if I go." He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. "I don't know. I just don't know. Leslie?"  
  
She looked as utterly thrown and flustered as that afternoon a week ago (had it really just been a week?) when he first confessed the truth of his identity to her.  
  
Crap. Maybe this _had_ been the wrong time, after all.  
  
"Leslie?" he repeated.  
  
She shook her head a little before looking up to meet his eyes. "People can't just turn their lives upside down for someone they've been with for less than two months."  
  
Ben's stomach clenched and his throat felt tight. He coughed and nodded. "Yeah. I get that. I know. I don't expect anything from you. Really. I just—I just wanted you to know."  
  
He had to get out of here. He'd screwed up. Badly. Again.  
  
He nodded at her. "Okay. Okay." He fumbled with the lock and doorknob until he got it open and slid out of the room, leaving her behind.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie's heart beat as fast as a hummingbird flapping around in her chest.  
  
What the hell was she supposed to do now?  
  
She could barely process the thoughts going through her head, let alone make sense of them.  
  
Why had she been such an idiot and said that? He'd looked like she'd just kicked his puppy. She couldn't blame him for running away as fast as he could get out.  
  
She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.   
  
Ben could stay. But should he? Did she want him to? Well, of course she wanted him to, but _should_ she?   
  
He was right. His staying would complicate her life. A lot. And there was potential danger involved. And lying. Lots and lots of lying. And how could he expect her to upset her whole life to make room for him and his truckload of complications? A two-week lust-fueled goodbye was one thing. But another three months? That was something else.  
  
Something she was completely unprepared for.  
  
She walked down the hall in a daze when she ran smack into April's parents. Her eyes went wide in surprise at their pleasant greetings and casual chit-chat. Didn't they know what their daughter was about to do?  
  
Leslie might not be able solve her own relationship problems, but maybe she could still help her friends. Time to start talking fast.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben stood in a dim corner, leaning against the wall and clutching a bottle of beer. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since his disastrous conversation with Leslie. He didn't really want to think about it.  
  
What he wanted was to evaporate into some sort of harmless gas and drift away, becoming one with the universe and losing all consciousness of his pathetic, miserable life.  
  
Leslie cared about him. He knew she did. But she didn't love him. He'd known that already, but still—to have it thrown at him like that . . .   
  
He closed his eyes and took a few slow breaths.  
  
They'd have to leave. The sooner the better. Staying would only make this hurt worse.  
  
"Hey man," said Tom.  
  
Ben sighed and opened his eyes. "Hi Tom. How you doing?"  
  
"Have you heard the news?" Tom leaned in with a grin.  
  
"What news?"  
  
Tom spread his arms and gestured excitedly. "Tonight isn't just a party. April and Andy are having a secret wedding ceremony."  
  
That was enough of a shock to take Ben's mind off his troubles. His eyebrows shot up. "They're getting married? Really? My Brita filter is as old as their relationship." He frowned. "Wait—should I change my Brita filter?"  
  
Tom rolled his eyes. "Dude, your priorities are seriously messed up. What really matters is that _I_ get to be Best Man. Which has been one of my life-long ambitions."  
  
Ben nodded, trying to work up some enthusiasm. "Wow. That's really great."  
  
Tom shook his head. "Whatever. I gotta go call Jean-Ralphio." He strode off, leaving Ben wondering who Jean-Ralphio was. And pondering the unexpected news of about the wedding.  
  
The memory of Leslie's recent words rang in his ears. _People can't just turn their lives upside down for someone they've been with for less than two months._  
  
Oh. She'd heard. Just before he talked to her.  
  
 _I have the worst fucking timing in the world._  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie was at her wit's end.  
  
No one cared that her two sweet, wonderful, idiotic friends were about to ruin their lives. Not their parents. Not their co-workers. Not their friends.  
  
Everyone seemed totally cool to stand back and watch this train-wreck happen, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.  
  
Even her girl-talk with April and a hasty phone call to Ann seemed to be fruitless.  
  
Two months wasn't enough time to know that you're ready to make a major commitment to someone. It was barely enough time to fall in love.  
  
Leslie leaned against the wall near the front door and drew in a shaky breath as she remembered Ben's face when he walked out of the bathroom.  
  
But two months _was_ enough time to fall in love, wasn't it?  
  
She blinked back tears and clutched at her aching chest. She had to do something. She had to make a choice.  
  
The problem was, she wasn't sure she trusted herself to make the right one.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben was still standing in his corner, pondering his many, many bad decisions over the past few months, when Andy bounded up, a joyful grin on his face.  
  
Ben couldn't help but smile back. Andy was the type of person who carried happiness with him wherever he went, and if anyone deserved to marry the love of his life—no matter what the circumstances—it was him. "I heard the good news. Congratulations."  
  
"Aw, thanks!" Andy gave him a rough hug and a pat on the back before stepping back with a more earnest expression coming over his face. "Hey, you've been a super great friend, and you gave me all kinds of awesome advice about all the April stuff over the summer and it's been so cool taking those ass-kicking classes with you. I love you, man. Will you be one of my Best Men?"  
  
Ben's chest swelled with emotion.  
  
He may not have gotten much right in his relationships here in Pawnee, but at least he got this one right. He had a true friend in Andy Dwyer, and right now it meant the world to him.  
  
"Yeah. It'd be my honor."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
When Andy officially announced the wedding, Leslie trailed after the crowd filing into the living room for the ceremony. She hung back in the kitchen, biting her bottom lip, struggling to contain her emotions.  
  
Ben stood there at the front of the room, in amongst Andy's cluster of "Best Men."  
  
He looked so proud to be included.  
  
The simple ceremony made Leslie's heart swell a little bigger, and as her friends shared their first kiss as a married couple, she couldn't take her eyes off of Ben's face. But he didn't look at her.  
  
Not even once.  
  
Immediately after the ceremony Andy's brothers took down the folding chairs to morph the room into a raucous celebratory dance party.  
  
Leslie couldn't take it. She slipped along the edge of the crowd and stepped out the front door to sit on one of the chairs outside.  
  
Was she in love with Ben? Was that why this hurt so much?  
  
 _It doesn't really matter if I am. Whether he leaves next week or in three months, he's still leaving. Even if I love him, he's not mine to have. He's given himself to a higher cause._  
  
The thought hurt like hell, but she'd have to learn to accept it if she hoped to get through this.  
  
After a few minutes, Ron stepped outside to join her, handing her a glass of wine.  
  
"You wouldn't have been able to stop it, you know," he said, sinking into the chair beside her.  
  
"I could've yelled something. Or tackled someone."  
  
"But you didn't. Because deep down, you knew it wouldn't have mattered. Those kids are going to do what they want to do."  
  
Leslie gripped her wine glass a little tighter. "They may have just ruined their lives on an impulse decision." _Just like asking Ben to stay would probably ruin mine._ But what if it didn't? That was the thought that kept her brain swirling.   
  
Ron sighed. "Leslie, I got married twice. Both times I was a lot older than those two. And both marriages ended in divorce. And a burning effigy. Who's to say what works? You find somebody you like, and you roll the dice. It's all anybody can do."  
  
Leslie nodded quietly and took a sip of her wine. Would the risks she'd be taking in asking Ben to stay be any worse than the risk Andy and April just took?  
  
Ron cleared his throat and looked down at his wine. "Ben was in the kitchen, last time I saw him."  
  
Leslie smiled and let out a laugh with more than a little sob around the edges. Ron cared way more than he liked to let on in public. "Thanks."  
  
He nodded quietly as she stood and gulped down the rest of her wine to fortify herself.  
  
She still wasn't entirely certain what she wanted to do, but she knew she needed to talk to Ben. They had to figure this out together.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Ben chatted with a few of Andy's band mates as they set up their equipment, trying to take his mind off of Leslie. He could probably convince Chris to leave soon without anyone noticing. Maybe a half hour more is all it would take.  
  
He hung back by the backyard door as a crowd gathered for a few quick wedding speeches.  
  
He thought back to the magnificent pomp of his brother's wedding. His sister-in-law was an event planner, and she made certain that her wedding advertised her skills at their best. Everything had been opulent, stylish, and meticulously timed. But the emotions at that perfectly planned event hadn't been any different than the ones here at this hastily thrown-together celebration.  
  
It wasn't about the wedding. It was about love, and friendship, and family.  
  
The three things he'd given up to pursue justice for victims of Everson's schemes.  
  
At times like this it was hard to convince himself that it was worth the sacrifice.  
  
As Andy's grandmother finished her speech, Ben felt someone's eyes on him.  
  
He looked up to see Leslie staring at him from across the room. She looked—nervous. And a little sad.  
  
Ben looked away. There was nothing he could do to make this right. It hurt too much. He couldn't deal with it.  
  
As Andy stepped to the mic, Ben quietly slid open the back door and stepped outside, shutting himself out.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The ache in Leslie's chest intensified as Ben made his escape. Not that she could blame him, after the way she'd treated him tonight.  
  
God, she'd screwed up.  
  
She needed to find a way to fix things. Or to at least make them less bad.  
  
Andy and his band mates stood at the ready, and Andy took the mic with a contented grin.  
  
After a few words of thanks, Andy grinned even more broadly. "Oh my god, I'm married!" He laughed. "It's crazy! What happened! But seriously, life is short, right? Uh, I just really thing you should just do whatever makes you happy. That's what April and I did. We are in love! So we didn't over think it. Seriously. I cannot emphasize enough how little we thought about this. Am I right?"  
  
He glanced at April and nodded, smiling. "He's right."  
  
Leslie drew in a shaking breath while Andy launched into a song he'd written for April.  
  
Andy's speech had touched her on so many levels.  
  
Who knew better than Ben just how short life could really be?  
  
"Do what makes you happy," Leslie whispered to herself. "Oh my god, I'm about to take life advice from Andy." But even that scary revelation wasn't enough to stop her.  
  
In spite of all the complications it would bring—in spite of how much it might hurt in a few month's time—right here, right now, she knew exactly what made her happy.  
  
He was standing just outside the back door.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben stared up at the moon, his hands shoved in his pockets, and shivered a little in the brisk November breeze.  
  
He wondered how easy it would be to find Chris without having to talk to Leslie.  
  
When he heard the back door open, his heart sank. He knew exactly who it would be.  
  
He turned to face Leslie as she stepped toward him anxiously. He opened his mouth, struggling to find the words to say to her.  
  
She beat him to it. "I want you to stay."  
  
His jaw dropped and his heart stopped. "What?"  
  
She stepped closer. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I was shocked and confused, and I never should have said that. But now that I've had time to think, I know what I want. I want you to stay."  
  
Ben felt faint, and realized it was because he'd forgotten to breath. He sucked in the cold air. "You'll have to lie to Ann. And Ron. And everyone else. Every single day."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And I'll still have to leave at the end of February."  
  
"Yes. I know." Her voice shook a little on that answer.  
  
"And the danger," he said, "the longer I stay—"  
  
She cut him off. "I understand the danger. I still want you to stay. It's worth the risk, if I can be with you."  
  
At that moment Ben couldn't think of anything other than how much he loved the woman standing in front of him, and how he couldn't stand to go another second without her in his arms. He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her with every ounce of emotion in his body.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Chris stood in the corner having a lengthy discussion on the futility of existence with April's oddly-attired friend Orin, when he noticed Ben and Leslie coming in from the backyard hand in hand, smiles on their faces.  
  
So that answered his question about where he'd be living for the foreseeable future. He wasn't certain if Ben had made the right choice, any more than he was certain he'd made the right choice when he left Kelsey. Only time would tell.  
  
"Hey—there's a deer carcass next to Timber Ridge Drive," said Orin. "Do you want to go look at it?"  
  
Chris frowned. "I appreciate the invitation, but I think I'll have to pass. Excuse me."   
  
He slipped away from Orin and made his way to the door. He was done with being social for the night, and he felt pretty confident that Ben could find his own way home.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben couldn't stop smiling as he swayed to the music, holding Leslie in his arms.  
  
Andy and April stopped beside them on the dance floor and Andy raised his eyebrows. "Wait a minute—are you two _together_?"  
  
Ben and Leslie both laughed. "We are," replied Leslie. "It's pretty new. But it's good." She looked back at Ben. "It's really good."  
  
"Awesomesauce!" exclaimed Andy, raising his hand to high five both of them in turn before moving onto his other guests.  
  
Ben pulled Leslie close again and they continued dancing.  
  
"It is good," she murmured in his ear. "I'm really happy."  
  
"Me too," he replied.  
  
Ben wasn't a religious man. He'd given up going to church in his teens when his mom decided it wasn't worth a weekly fight. But as he swayed with Leslie in that crowded living room, surrounded by friends, he silently prayed to whatever deity that might be listening.  
  
 _Please let this be the right choice. Please._  
  
  
TBC


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay between updates. I've been on a family roadtrip. I should get the rest of the story posted more regularly.
> 
> This chapter was originally published on LiveJournal (also jncar) in February 2013.

Ben finished draining his coffee mug and set it down on the kitchen table.  
  
Leslie liked that he already had a favorite mug. That he already  _belonged_.  
  
"Okay," he said, "so I'll go talk to Paul first thing this morning and get that whole conversation over with."  
  
"I still think I should come with you. This is about my job and my reputation—"  
  
Ben held up a hand, "And I have a rapport and camaraderie with him that you don't. He'll be far more receptive to me than to you. We talked about this."  
Leslie sighed and toyed with her breakfast fork. "I know. But my professional reputation depends on the outcome of this meeting. I just hate not being in control of the situation."  
  
Ben drummed his fingers on the table a few times. "Would you feel better if you sat out in the waiting area while I meet with him, just in case you need to come in?"  
  
"Yes. Yes I would." Leslie nodded emphatically. "I already have some note cards written up with my arguments."  
  
Ben smiled. "Of course you do."  
  
Leslie had butterflies in her stomach the whole way to City Hall. Not merely because Ben's meeting had the potential to impact the future of her career, but because this was the first time they'd driven to work together in the same car. She couldn't stop glancing at him—letting it sink in that this was real. It was happening.  
  
It was still terrifying. And the future was still—not good. But today, she was happy. No matter what.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"So, what's on your mind?" Paul asked as Ben sank into the chair across from his desk.  
  
Ben smoothed his shirt nervously. He felt fairly confident that the talking points he'd prepped would work. But there was always room for doubt. He didn't like doubt. Especially not when it threatened Leslie.  
  
He chose to ignore the fact that the very existence of their relationship threatened Leslie.  
  
"Well," said Ben, "I have some news. A few pieces of news, actually. First, I found out over the weekend that the job Chris and I had lined up in Atlanta has been postponed. They ran into some unexpected expenses and had to push our project back by a few months."  
  
Paul's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"  
  
Ben nodded. "Really. Kind of ironic, that budget problems delayed their ability to bring in some new budget experts to help revamp operations, right?" He tried to force a laugh. "Anyway, I was hoping to stay in the Pawnee area. At least until the Atlanta job is ready again, but I'm also interested in considering permanent opportunities. And I was hoping you might be able to point me in the direction of some openings around town?"  
  
"Huh." Paul rubbed his chin. "I wish I could say that I was sorry the job fell through, but I have to admit that this is actually a stroke of good fortune."  
  
It was Ben's turn to raise his eyebrows. "It is?"  
  
Paul nodded. "Yep. On Friday my doctor broke the news that my new meds aren't doing the trick. I have to get surgery."  
  
"H—heart surgery? Oh, god. That's—big. Wow." Ben fidgeted in his seat.   
  
"It's for the best. I'm a heart attack waiting to happen. I can't do that my family. And all weekend I've been stewing over which department head I can ask to step up and take over for me during my recovery. I'm scheduled for surgery the second week of December, and I won't be back to work until January. Plus my doctor wants me working fewer hours for the foreseeable future. So hearing that you and Chris might be able to stick around for a while longer is like a gift from on high dropping right in my lap."  
  
"You want us to keep our jobs here?" It was better than Ben had ever imagined. Without the hassle of a fake job search he and Chris would draw much less attention to themselves, and cause much less confusion for their cover story. It was perfect. Like it was meant to be. For once, luck was on his side.  
  
"Absolutely. I can't imagine anyone better. You boys can fill in for me through all of December, and you can keep me from overexerting myself once I finally come back. It's exactly what I need."  
  
"It's exactly what I need, too," replied Ben, "there's just one little problem." He crossed his fingers at his side, hoping that his little complication wouldn’t ruin the otherwise perfect solution to his problems. "It's the other bit of news I needed to share with you. You see—during the course of our budget overhaul, I got to know the city employees pretty well. And I started enjoying their company outside of work. As friends. And over the course of time, when you get to know someone well, things can change. And . . ."  
  
"Get to the point, Wyatt." Paul gave him an exasperated look.  
  
Ben nodded nervously. "Yeah. Okay. Well—I recently started dating a city employee. And I know that's ethically problematic, because of reporting lines and budget oversight. It just came on gradually, and with the budget process coming to an end we felt like we wanted to try something before I had to leave town. You understand?"   
  
Paul tapped the table a few times and nodded.  
  
"But I swear there was no favoritism or preferential treatment during the budget review. Our personal relationship didn't begin until long after the primary overhaul had been completed." Ben felt sweat beading on his chest.  
  
Paul sighed. "Who is it?"  
  
Ben swallowed hard. "Leslie Knope."  
  
Paul leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. "Oh. Well."  
  
"The Harvest Festival was over and done with before we got together. It wasn't—I didn't—" Ben started to stammer.  
  
"It's okay, Ben." Paul held up a reassuring hand. "When people spend a lot of time working together, these things are bound to happen once in a while. And I understand why you decided to go for it, what with having one foot out the door already. I appreciate your honesty. But it does muddy the waters a bit when it comes to you filling in for me."  
  
Ben sighed. Naturally. Things could never work out that easily. He should have known better. "I understand."  
  
Paul drummed his fingers on the desk, looking thoughtful. "So, asking you to end the relationship would probably be a deal-breaker, then?"  
  
"Yes. It would," Ben answered. "And I hope you don't have any intention of disciplining Leslie for this—"  
  
"No, no. Of course not. I trust you when you say there was no favoritism." Paul shook his head. "Okay. Well. I'd still like you boys to stay on. So here's what we do. We set up a meeting for you, me, Leslie, and Cindy from HR later today, and we work up some paperwork. Some sort of official disclosure of your relationship, and an agreement to run all Parks and Rec business through either me or Chris. That should clear up the problem, don't you think?"  
  
Ben's eyes went wide. This could still work? "Y—yes. That sounds great."  
  
"Okay. I'll have my assistant arrange the meeting. And then we'll work up some new employment contracts for you and Chris. He'll be on board with this, won't he?"  
  
Ben cleared his throat, still stunned by how simple this had been. "Yes. We'd been prepared to go our separate ways, if necessary, but I'm sure he'll jump at the chance to stay on here."  
  
"Good. How about you have him drop by sometime this morning so I can get that straight from the horse's mouth?"  
  
Ben agreed. He and Paul rose and shook hands.  
  
"This really takes a weight off my shoulders, Ben," said Paul.  
  
"Mine too. Thank you."  
  
He walked out of the office with a light heart. It almost seemed too good to be true, but he wasn't going to complain.   
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Chris paused and gripped his pen a little tighter as it hovered over his new employment contract with the Pawnee city government. He still wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do. Wouldn't his life be so much easier if he could, once again, escape to a place where he was a stranger? An exciting new enigma. A temporary friend. A potential hook-up. And nothing more.   
  
Maybe.  
  
He raised his eyes to meet Ben's gaze.  
  
It boggled his mind how over-the-moon Ben seemed to be. The end of this story hadn't changed. It had only been postponed. Yet Ben acted as if the whole world had changed. As if he'd won his "happily ever after."  
  
Chris didn't believe in "happily ever after" anymore.  
  
He took a deep breath and spoke seriously. "Are you absolutely certain about this? You'll still be cut off from everyone here for at least a year. The next three months won't change that. Is it really worth it?"  
  
"Yes. It is." Ben had never looked more earnest. "If you'd been given three extra months to just be happy with Kelsey, wouldn't that have been worth it, to you?"  
  
The now familiar pain in Chris's heart welled up again as he thought about it. Three extra months of happiness. Three extra months of memories.  
  
"I . . . don't know. But I probably would have wanted to find out." Chris couldn't deny it. Sometimes the heart overrules the head.  
  
Ben nodded. "So—I guess the only question now is: is it worth it to  _you_? If you want to leave, I'll understand."  
  
All of the advantages of leaving flashed through Chris's mind one more time. Then he shook his head, dismissing them all. "We started this together. And we'll see it through to the end together. I'll stay."  
  
For better or for worse, his mind was made up.  
  
He put pen to paper, and signed.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Though everything had been going unbelievably well since she and Ben decided to throw caution to the wind and dive into a real relationship (Leslie found herself tempted to call things "too good to be true," but she didn't want to jinx herself), Leslie decided it would be best not to tempt fate by introducing her brand-new-boyfriend-with-a-false-identity to her mother over Thanksgiving. That would probably be enough to push Ben past his breaking point.  
  
Instead, Ben and Chris arranged to go to Indianapolis to spend the holiday with "friends," and Leslie shared her usual Thanksgiving feast with her mom, a few extended relatives and few friends of the family. And though she did share a few choice details about Ben, just to prove she found a good one this time, her mom wasn't at all disappointed not to meet him. Leslie never introduced her boyfriends to her mom unless they'd been going out at least five months.  
  
As a result, her mom hadn't met any of her boyfriends in over six years.  
  
And still probably wouldn't for at least another eighteen months. Leslie didn't like to dwell on that part.  
  
She told her mom she'd be driving to Indy for some Black Friday shopping on the day after Thanksgiving. And she told Ben she'd be hanging out with her mom.  
  
Instead, early Friday morning she got in her car and drove south for several hours. She didn't stop until she was well into Kentucky.  
  
Around lunchtime she pulled into a small town, and spotted the local post office.  
  
Here was as good as anywhere.  
  
She pulled up to the drive-up mailbox and put her car into park. Her hand only shook a little as she reached for the large manila envelope sitting on the passenger seat, next to her.  
  
It contained a print-out of all the information and research into rehabilitation and care-related finances that Ben had done for his mom during his stay in Indianapolis. Leslie had promised to mail it for him once he left for Atlanta, but now that his departure date had been delayed, she'd decided this wasn't something that could wait.  
  
His mom needed to see now—for the holidays—how much her son still loved and worried about her.  
  
Leslie knew Ben wouldn't approve, so she hadn't shared her plan with him. But there was no way this would cause any problems. She'd read the document to make sure it contained no Indiana-specific information, or any other clues to his whereabouts. She'd hand-written the enclosed note, explaining her friendship with Ben and sharing her desire to pass this token of his love along to his mother. And she was mailing it not to Doreen Adams, Ben's mom, but to her best friend, Autumn Forkner, just as Ben had suggested when they originally discussed mailing the document.  
  
She'd even driven hours from home to make sure no postmarks could trace the envelope back to Pawnee.  
  
Leslie had taken every precaution. She didn't have anything to worry about. Did she?  
  
She closed her eyes and took a few more breaths to steel her nerves.  
  
Then, in one swift motion, she reached out her window and slid the envelope into the mailbox.  
  
There. It was done.  
  
Still, her nerves were so rattled she drove one town away before stopping to buy lunch.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Chris stood in the corridor near Andy's shoeshine stand, peering through the windows. It was an unseasonably warm and sunny day for early December, and in the clear brightness he could see straight through to the small break area in the corridor across the courtyard.  
  
Ben and Leslie sat there, drinking coffee, holding hands, and making moon eyes at each other like love-struck teenagers.  
  
And Chris was jealous.  
  
He hated feeling this. He hated all negative emotions. But, since negative emotions had recently become inescapable, he was trying to learn to accept and process them.  
  
His friend—his only  _real_  friend—was in love and happy. Chris, on the other hand, had sacrificed his love and happiness. Now, he was alone. So very, very alone.  
  
There had to be some positive spin on this. Somewhere . . .  
  
He was still searching his mind for an answer when Ann Perkins strolled up.  
  
She nodded warily.  
  
He couldn't blame her for still feeling suspicious or hurt. He'd feel the same in her position.  
  
"I'm looking for Leslie. We're supposed to meet for lunch," said Ann.  
  
Chris nodded. "Of course. She's over in the break area." He pointed across the courtyard.  
  
Ann looked over just in time to see Ben wiping a dab of whipped cream from the corner of Leslie's mouth with his napkin. Chris was growing accustomed to seeing such casual gestures of affection, but Ann winced.  
  
"Do they look at each other like that every time they're together?" she asked.  
  
Chris sighed. "For the most part, yes. They appear to be truly, deeply enamored with each other."  
  
They stood side by side for several moments, watching Leslie and Ben smile and talk happily with one another.  
  
"Can I tell you something terrible?" Ann asked.  
  
Chris raised his eyebrows. "I can't imagine anything you have to say could be terrible."  
  
"This is," she said. "When Leslie and I met, I was in a serious relationship. And I've been in a few different relationships since. She's had a few dates now and then and a couple of short-lived boyfriends. But for most of the time we've been friends, I've been the one in a relationship, and she's been the single one, out there, looking. But now our roles are reversed. And it feels strange." She looked up to meet Chris's eyes. "This thing with Ben feels different then the other guys she's dated. This feels like the real thing. And I'm happy for her. She's been really good about blocking out part of her schedule every week for girl time together, which is great. So I really am happy for her. For  _them_. But I also feel—jealous. Like I'm being left behind." She wrinkled her nose. "Pretty terrible, right?"  
  
Chris felt another stirring of guilt over how he'd treated Ann. She hadn't said as much, but he knew he'd made this worse for her. He shook his head. "I don't think it's terrible. Lately, I've been feeling the same way."  
  
They turned back to watch Ben and Leslie again.  
  
He and Ann were both lonely, but standing next to her, he felt a little less alone.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Between filling in for Paul, helping Leslie with her Pawnee Winter Wonderland, and making the most of every minute he got to spend with her, Ben hadn't been so happy in many, many years. He awoke every morning feeling a sense of purpose and meaning in his life, and went to bed every night with a deep sense of accomplishment and contentment. It certainly didn't hurt that the majority of those nights were spent in Leslie's bed.  
  
He'd begun to believe that these few months really would fill him up with enough happy memories to get him through the year or year and half of isolation that would follow. And he'd even begun to let himself believe that he'd be free to return to his real life when that time was up. And that Leslie would be waiting for him when he did.  
  
They'd technically been together for less than a month, and it was probably premature to be thinking that way, but he couldn't help himself.  
  
At the Winter Wonderland grand opening/tree lighting ceremony on December 10th, Ben spent the afternoon and evening with Leslie, surrounded by all the friends he'd made over the past year. There were a few mishaps with raccoons early in the afternoon, a lost child just after dusk, and an incident with a kid rubbing his boogers on the Santa suit during Jerry's shift in costume. But the team handled each problem without any trouble, just as Ben had come to expect.  
  
What would it be to spend the rest of his life doing this kind of work with these people? It was a very attractive prospect.  
  
When Leslie bustled the whole group of Parks employees together under the tree for a group photo for the Pawnee Journal, he sidled up beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist, huddling in with the gang. His smile was broad as the camera flashed.  
  
This was where he belonged.   
  
He only hoped they could all forgive him for his lies, and welcome him back when the time came.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Taking over for Paul kept Chris pleasantly busy through the month of December. It was refreshing to be able to fill his days with work, stretching long into the evening. He'd taken on the lion's share of the duties so as to give Ben more free time to share with Leslie.  
  
Ben had taken the gesture as one of generosity, but in reality Chris craved the work to crowd out the darkness and loneliness in his mind.  
  
Christmas was more difficult.  
  
All of his Pawnee friends had plans, Ben included.  
  
Ben did his best to include Chris—dragging him into the night of tree-decorating and cookie baking that Ben and Leslie had at the condo, and having a Christmas Eve dinner at the condo with him. And Ben spent most of Christmas day with him, while Leslie was with her mother. But the rest of the weekend, Ben was at Leslie's. Chris's other friends were occupied. And he had no work to do.  
  
He went on several long runs. Fortunately there was no fresh snow to create hazards on the sidewalks. But although the physical exertion was invigorating, it was difficult to be alone with his thoughts.  
  
Two years ago he'd planned on proposing to Kelsey on Christmas day.  
  
Now he could barely remember the sound of her voice. And chances were she'd moved onto someone new.  
  
Everson was supposed to be convicted by now, but his lawyers had managed to pushed the case back again and again.  
  
When would this case stop destroying his life?  
  
Chris did his best to find work to do at City Hall during the week following Christmas. Unfortunately, there was woefully little to do.  
  
He created new projects for himself, revamping the city manager's filing system, formulating a city employee physical fitness initiative to launch in January, and even adding a fresh coat of paint to a few of the more battered walls up on the fourth floor after regular business hours were over.  
  
The extra work helped keep him calm, but he couldn't escape his regrets and frustrations altogether. They were too powerful.  
  
In the nighttime, and again in the early morning hours, they would overtake him, leaving him in a dark hole of sadness until the time came for work to begin again.  
  
Though he was in no mood for festivity, when Ben and Leslie urged him to attend the New Year's Eve party at the Snakehole Lounge with them, it seemed a welcome distraction from the darkness of his thoughts.  
  
The club was filled to the brim with the expected crowd of party-goers, all dressed in their sparkly and shiny best to ring in the New Year.   
  
It was a relief to fade into the crowd, letting the pounding music and flashing lights dominate his mind—along with a pleasant alcohol buzz to help further distract Chris from his troubles.  
  
He shared drinks and dances with his friends and a few lovely ladies, and watched the crowd with pleasure. Happy newlyweds April and Andy seemed blissfully happy as they bounced around the club with enthusiasm. Ben was happy and relaxed enough with Leslie that she actually had him up dancing. And a smattering of other friends and acquaintances from around town dotted the crowd, all having an equally good time.  
  
As Chris stood at the bar, taking it all in, Ann stepped up beside him. "Having a good time?" she asked.  
  
"Better than I expected," he replied. "I wasn't really in a party mood, but tonight has been very diverting."  
  
"I wasn't really in the mood, either," said Ann. "But Leslie talked me into coming. You're right—it's a pretty fun party. I'm glad I got out of the house."  
  
She stood beside him, watching the party and sipping her drink. Ben and Leslie swayed together on the dance floor, their arms around each other and their eyes locked. April and Andy dashed past, seemingly caught up in some sort of game, their faces bright with smiles.  
  
"They look so happy," said Ann. "So in love. I miss being in love like that."  
  
Chris sighed. "So do I."  
  
Ann looked at him, her face serious. "Is that what went wrong with us? That you were still in love with your ex?" She squeezed her lips together and shrugged. "Leslie kind of . . . mentioned something like that."  
  
Chris looked down at the beer bottle in his hands, shame welling in his chest. He nodded. "I confess that I was. Am. Still in love with her."  
  
"Oh." Ann sounded more than a little lost. "So, I guess I just didn't measure up."  
  
"No." Chris looked back up at her. "Absolutely not. I don't want you to think that for an instant longer. You are a truly amazing person, Ann Perkins. But also very different from Kelsey. I thought that being with someone so different from her would help me get over her faster. But it didn't work. It was never any fault with you. You are literally one of the most wonderful women I've ever had the pleasure of associating with. It was never you. It was me. My heart wasn't ready to let go of what I'd lost, so I was never able to open it up to you. I used you. And I hurt you. And I'm sorry."  
  
As Ann listened to his heartfelt apology, a slight smile flicked across her face. She nodded. "I wasn't entirely sure I believed you the first time you apologized. But I believe you, now. Thank you. It . . . helps."  
  
"You're welcome."   
  
Their eyes remained locked for a few moments, and Chris couldn't help but remember all the happy nights he spent in Ann's company. She truly was a delightful and beautiful woman.  
  
"Hey hey hey!" Tom bounded in between them, appearing as if out of nowhere. "Squeeze together, peeps," he said, wrapping one arm around Ann's shoulders and tugging Chris toward him. "I want to get a get a pic of myself with the two hottest people in the club."  
  
Chris raised an eyebrow, but didn't object as Tom held out his phone to snap a picture of the three of them crowded together.  
  
"Awesome," said Tom, stepping back away from them. "I'm live tweeting the party as part of my new promotional plan for the Snakehole."  
  
Chris felt a pang of worry, but let it pass. One poorly lit picture among the millions of tweets going out tonight couldn't be a problem, could it?  
  
Tom continued. "If a picture of two of the hottest people in Pawnee doesn't bring in more business, nothing will. Though, Ann, you really could have done more with your smile. Or lack of one—you know what I mean, Chris?" Laughing to himself, Tom wandered off into the crowd.  
  
Chris met Ann's eyes again. "For the record, I think your smile looks as lovely as ever."  
  
"Thank you." Ann's smile brightened even more at the compliment. She took a sip of her drink before speaking again. "So, this Kelsey must have been pretty special for you to be so hung up on her for so long. What was she like?"  
  
"Really?" Chris raised his eyebrows.   
  
"Really," replied Ann. "Come on." She nudged him with her elbow. "Tell me about her."  
  
As bizarre as the situation seemed, Chris felt unbelievably grateful that someone actually cared enough to ask him about his life and the things that mattered to him. "Are you certain you want to spend your New Year's Eve talking about your ex's ex with your ex?"  
  
Ann laughed. "That's a lot of exes in one sentence. Um—but, sure. Why not? It's not like I feel like hanging out with any of those guys." She gestured vaguely at the crowd. "And friends sometimes talk about exes, don't they?"  
  
"Are we friends now?" Chris asked, his heart lifting with hope.  
  
"I think we can be, if we give it a try." Ann's smile sparkled.  
  
"I would like that very much."  
  
They did talk about Kelsey for a while, and it felt amazing to finally work through some of his complicated feelings. And then they talked about Ann, and her frustrations with her job, but also how much she liked helping people every day.  
  
Before they knew it, the countdown to midnight had begun.  
  
Chris smiled as he and Ann joined in the chorus of voices chanting out the seconds. And when the club filled with cheers and applause at the stroke of midnight, it seemed perfectly natural to celebrate the New Year by leaning toward Ann and giving her a kiss.  
  
When her fingers made their way into his hair and her mouth opened to deepen the kiss, nothing seemed more right than to pull her petite body closer to his and prolong their kiss even more.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Making love to Ben had been pretty amazing from the start, but that night after getting home from the New Year's Eve party, Leslie felt like their intimacy had somehow been elevated to a whole new level.   
  
Every kiss—every touch—every caress—the way their bodies moved and shifted together as if they could read each other's thoughts. It was . . .powerful.  
  
It wasn't just that it was good sex. Which it was.   
  
Very good.  
  
It was that she'd never felt so emotionally connected to someone during sex before. Like their hearts and their minds were perfectly in sync.   
  
Every time he murmured her name, she could feel her chest swell with emotion.  
  
Afterward, they lay with their bodies still completely entwined, holding each other as if unwilling to let go, even for an instant.  
  
"You're so amazing," Ben whispered. "There are a lot of things from the past two years that I wish had never happened. But if that's what it took to come here and meet you, then it was all worth it."  
  
Leslie clung to him a little tighter, and tilted her head to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth. She wasn't sure how else to respond, short of shouting out: "I love you!"  
  
Her breath caught in her throat as that thought filled her mind. That's what this was, wasn't it? That's why tonight had been so special.  
  
She was in love with him.  
  
That realization continued to swirl through her mind deep into the night as, gradually, they both fell asleep.  
  
In the pre-dawn darkness Leslie woke with a gasp. Her dreams were a troubling blur in her mind, and she felt cold. Where was Ben? Her heart raced and she gasped and rolled over, reaching out to find him—convinced that he'd somehow vanished in the middle of night.  
  
He grunted as her flailing arm hit his side.  
  
She wanted to feel relieved. He was still there, right where he belonged. But in the darkness, her heart continued to race.  
  
Because in two months he wouldn't be there anymore.   
  
In two months he'd be gone, maybe for good.  
  
She loved him, and there was nothing she could do to stop him from leaving.  
  
A sob welled in her chest, and she couldn't hold it back. She scrambled out of bed and dashed to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.  
  
The first sob escaped her lips, and she turned on the sink faucet to camouflage the sound. Sob after sob shook her body. She couldn't stop them. All she could think about was how much she would miss Ben when he was gone.  
  
 _Why did I let myself fall in love with him? Why?_  
  
She sank to the ground and curled up against the wall, her whole body trembling. Everything hurt.  
  
A few moments later the bathroom door opened.  
  
"Leslie? Are you—" Ben's voice froze as her sobs picked back up. "Oh my god. Les? What's wrong? What happened?"  
  
She shook her head, unable to articulate the feelings that overwhelmed her.  
  
He sank down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Hey, shhh. It'll be okay. Just . . . tell me what's wrong? What can I do?"  
  
"I'm . . ." Her voice broke, and she gulped some air. "I'm just going to miss you." Getting that out was enough to bring on a fresh wave of sobs.  
  
"Oh." His voice was quiet. He pulled her a little closer and held her a little tighter and she shook in his arms.  
  
The fact that being held by him felt so damn good somehow made it hurt even more.  
  
None of this was fair. None of it had ever been fair.  
  
After a few minutes, when her crying began to quiet again, Ben spoke softly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stayed. It would have been easier for you if I'd left when I had the chance."  
  
"No!" The viciousness of her reply was enough to shock Leslie. But it was also enough to snap her out of her crying fit. She took a deep breath. "Never say that again. Never. That would've been even worse. I don't ever want to think about that again."  
  
"Okay," he said, sounding faintly surprised. "Okay."  
  
He continued to hold her until her crying had stopped.  
  
This was it, she realized. This was what she'd get. Two more months to collect moments like this, and store them up.   
  
All she could do was make the most of it.  
  
"Let's go back to bed, now," she said, her throat raw. "Can we snuggle for a while?"  
  
"Yes. Absolutely."  
  
He helped to her feet and led her back out to the bedroom, where they burrowed under the covers, wrapping themselves around each other.  
  
 _I have to remember this,_  Leslie thought.  _I have to remember it all._  
  
Who knew how long those memories would have to last her?  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Chris felt momentarily disoriented when he woke in the morning, until he remembered that he wasn't in his own bed.  
  
He rose, took a few deep, cleansing breaths, and did his morning stretches. He could hear the rattle of cookware coming from the kitchen, so he assumed that Ann was already making breakfast.  
  
A moment later, she appeared.  
  
"Good morning," she said, poking her head in through the slightly open door. Her smile looked a bit uncertain.  
  
It seemed he wasn't the only one wondering if they'd made a wise choice last night. "Good morning. I hope you slept well?"  
  
She shrugged. "Pretty well. And you?"  
  
"I feel exceedingly well rested."  
  
She sucked on her bottom lip for a moment before answering. "Good. Okay. Well, I have some tea brewing for you, and an egg white omelet on the stove. I'd better go check on it."  
  
"Thank you. I'll be out in a moment." He felt touched that she'd remembered his favorite breakfast.  
  
She really did deserve someone worthy of her. Not a pathetic, heartbroken wreak, like him.  
  
After pulling on his shirt, Chris joined Ann in the kitchen.  
  
She handed him his egg white omelet with sliced tomatoes, and sat down to her own scrambled eggs and toast.  
  
After taking a few bites in companionable silence, Chris finally worked up the nerve to bring up the elephant in the room. "So. Last night . . ."  
  
"Last night was closure," said Ann, her voice steady and sure. "At least, that's what it felt like to me. I mean—when things ended between us, it just kind of  _happened._  We didn't really get a chance to work through any of our feelings. I think that's what last night was about."  
  
Really, she deserved so much better than him. "You are very astute, Ann Perkins. Closure is a very apt description for what happened last night. I'm glad we're both in agreement about this."  
  
"Me, too," she said, her smile more genuine this time.  
  
"Do you think," Chris asked tentatively, "that we can still be friends?"  
  
Ann nodded slowly. "I think I can manage to be friends with you, Chris Traeger."  
  
Chris smiled, feeling more genuinely happy than he had in months. "That is literally the best news I've had in ages."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Though the January temperature in Atlanta was an unseasonably high 61 degrees F, a fire roared in the ornate fireplace in George Everson's den.  
  
Everson was a man of simple pleasures. A nice fire was one of those pleasures—as was the favorite armchair in which he sat, a glass of his favorite whiskey on the table beside him, and a cigar clenched in his teeth. He enjoyed a smoke and a drink in the evening, while he read his daily paper. And with the latest Wall Street Journal spread across his lap, he should have been content.  
  
But it had been harder for Everson to stay content, of late. He had been forced to step down as CEO of his own company several months ago, in the run-up to the trial.  
  
The trial that made him lose sleep at night, and gave him heartburn during the day.  
  
Heartburn ruined a lot of his favorite simple pleasures, these days.  
  
One of the other simple things that Everson valued the most was loyalty.   
  
Perhaps it was old-fashioned of him, but he believed that men should be loyal to the people who employed them. Loyal to goals of the company that paid their salaries. Loyal to the ideals of their leaders.  
  
Which was why it made him burn inside every time he thought of Adams and Robinson.  
  
He had given them every chance to stay loyal. Every chance to share in the profits and successes of his plans.  
  
Instead, they'd turned on him.  
  
He took a long drag on his cigar, and tried to put his troubles out of his mind by reading the next article.  
  
A few minutes later, his valet ushered in Yeager. Yeager was a man who understood loyalty.  
  
One of Everson's senior vice presidents, the man continued to faithfully serve his leader, even in these troubled times.  
  
"Sorry to bother you like this," said Yeager. "But I thought you'd like to hear this news right away. We believe that we've found the items you've been looking for." Yeager spoke in the simple code they'd developed to guard against listening devices. "We're doing some final investigating to be sure, but we think we've found that pair of trinkets you've had your eye on."  
  
A surge of triumph flared in Everson's chest. He set his cigar down in the ash tray, and took a sip of his whiskey.  
  
"This isn't another false alarm, is it?"  
  
Yeager shook his head. "I don't think so. We'll be sure by the end of the week. How do you want us to proceed from there?"  
  
Everson smiled grimly. Loyalty had many rewards. And disloyalty—well, disloyalty led to severe consequences. "Call in my usual acquisition experts, and have them arrange to the collect the items. Let me know when they'll need the funds."  
  
"Will do." Yeager nodded.  
  
"Just out of curiosity—where did you find them?" Everson's people had been searching high and low. He had to know where the feds had managed to keep them stashed for so long.  
  
Yeager's eyes darted around, as if searching for bugs. Finally, he strode over to the desk on the other side of the room and scrawled something on a pad of paper.  
  
He held it up for Everson to read.  
  
"Indiana."  
  
  
TBC


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck for not posting this update faster. Sorry! I'm going to try to queue the last few updates to happen a couple times a week until we're done.
> 
> This chapter was originally published on LiveJournal in May 2013. This is probably the longest and most intense chapter in the fic - all the content warnings pretty much pertain to this chapter.

Leslie's smile perked up when Ben stopped by with coffee mid-morning on Wednesday the second week of January. They'd made a habit of these little mid-day meetings, but they never failed to lift her spirits. Their relationship was on a limited timeframe—she coveted every moment she could get with him.  
  
They fell into their usual easy banter when he sat down beside her. Leslie still hadn't done anything about her difficult realization on New Year's Eve. She knew it was silly, but she couldn't help but think that if she said something, it would all be so much more real. It would make the stakes higher. It would make it harder to say goodbye.  
  
None of that was really true—everything would be just as hard no matter what she said or didn't say. But still, she held back. Her silence was a safety net, designed to catch her and help her move on after Ben's inevitable departure (an event she tried not to think about but which intruded on her mind all too often).   
  
"So," said Ben, "I was thinking it would be fun to get away for a weekend. Maybe we could stay at that spa hotel you told me about?"  
  
The eager smile on his face made her warm from top to bottom. "That sounds perfect." One more chance to live in the blissful moment. She could think about the future later. Not today.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
April sat beside her husband at the shoeshine stand having a bubble-blowing contest. Really, she just wanted to see how long it would take Andy to get the gum out of his beard when she popped it in his face. She snickered at the thought as she stretched her gum over her tongue.   
  
Before either of them could start blowing their bubbles two tall guys in dark suits and overcoats wandered by. Their shoes looked like something her dad would wear. Way too nice for the guys at city hall—other than Chris.  
  
"Hey," said one of them, leaning closer to Andy and smiling under his salt and pepper scruff. "Do you run this stand?"  
  
"You bet I do," replied Andy. "Do you need a shoe shine? I'm pretty good at it."  
  
"Maybe later," said scruff face. "So, you probably recognize most of the people who work here. I'm looking for an old friend of mine. I think he works here, but I'm not sure which department he's in. Maybe you know him?" He held up a smart phone with a picture of Ben on it.  
  
An alarm bell started ringing in April's brain. She took a closer look at the two guys. It was snowy out, but not that cold. Those bulky coats could be hiding anything. And no way were those dudes friends of Ben. Not nearly nerdy enough.  
  
Andy laughed. "Yeah, that's Ben! He was best man at my wedding! Well, one of my best men. I had like, nine or ten. He's a great dude. So did you guys work together in Indy or something?"  
  
"Uh, yeah," replied scruff face, forcing his fake smile even wider. "That's right. So where can we find him?"  
  
"Probably over—" Andy started pointing in the direction of the Parks Department.  
  
April acted on instinct. "Fourth floor. I saw him earlier today and he said he had some meetings up on the fourth floor. I'm not sure which department. You'll have to ask around."  
  
Andy smiled and shrugged. "I'd listen to her. She's pretty smart."  
  
Scruff face nodded, still fake smiling. "Thanks. I appreciate the help." He turned and headed toward the elevators, his somber friend silently following.  
  
April felt a chill run down her spine. She had to get to the Parks Department.  
  
As soon as the overcoat dudes were out of sight she jumped up and grabbed Andy's hand. "Come on."  
  
"Sure babe," he said, standing and following along behind. "What's going on?"  
  
April frowned. "I think those guys want to kill Ben."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben ran his fingers over Leslie's knuckles as he laughed at one of her jokes. Their talk of a weekend away had spiraled into a string of ever-more-elaborate fantasies of ridiculous spa services. "Or maybe," he said, trying to one-up her again, "we could do the chocolate aromatherapy at the same time as the hot waffle acupressure session and get a mariachi band to serenade us all at once."  
  
"A mariachi band?" Leslie laughed. "Since when are you a mariachi fan?"  
  
"Well, I still have layers—"  
  
April and Andy burst into the office. Though April always looked intense, there was something different about her eyes.  
  
"There are some big guys wandering the halls looking for Ben," said April. "I think they might be packing heat. You and Chris need to get out of here."  
  
Ben's heart froze in his chest. He felt winded. "What?"  
  
"Oh my god," said Leslie. "Are . . . are you sure?"  
  
April nodded. "I got a really bad vibe from those guys."  
  
Ben's head still swirled. "How could . . . but . . . do you know about my . . . everything?"  
  
April sneered. "God, Ben, it's not like Leslie is the only one around here who can read. When you started blabbing about that pharmaceutical company, I looked it up."  
  
Ben's jaw dropped.  
  
April shrugged. "I get bored."  
  
"You mean you've known for months?" Ben was dumbfounded.  
  
"It made me like both of you a whole lot more. Whatever. Stop talking. You need to get out of here."  
  
Ben felt blown away with astonishment that April knew and didn't tell anyone, and gratitude that April knew and  _didn't tell anyone._  
  
Leslie jumped to her feet immediately. "She's right. We have to get you out of here."  
  
"Trade cars!" said Andy, an enthusiastic smile on his face. "That's what they would do in a movie. To throw the bad guys off the smell."  
  
"Good call," said Leslie, pointing. "April, toss me your keys. Ben, give April your keys, so she can move your car if she has to."  
  
Ben rose to his feet, his head still spinning, and handed his keys to April as instructed. This couldn’t be real. It couldn't be happening.  
  
"Okay," Leslie took a deep breath, "we can all hope that this is just a false alarm. But even if it is, you did the right thing, April. Thank you."  
  
April nodded. "We'll try to distract those guys for as long as we can. You be safe, okay?" For just a moment, she sounded vulnerable—frightened.  
  
That was enough to shock Ben back into reality. "Chris. We've got to get Chris out." He pulled his cell phone out and dialed Chris before anyone had time to react.  
  
"Hello, Ben. What's . . ."  
  
Ben cut off Chris's cheery greeting. "We're blown. We have to get out, now. Head down the stairs and go out the east side entrance. I'll be in April's car. Leave your phone, and pull out the battery. We've got to go. Now." His heart started to race in his chest as he spoke.  
  
"Understood. I'll be there in three minutes."  
  
Ben hung up and pulled the battery out of his own phone. He handed it to Andy. "Stash this somewhere. Don't let anyone else have it."  
  
Andy nodded, his eyes wide. "I'll guard it with my life."  
  
"I'll keep mine for now," said Leslie. "Don't do anything foolish, okay? I want you to call the police and give them a detailed description of these guys. Let the proper authorities deal with the situation while I get Ben and Chris to safety, okay? But don't—don't mention the witness protection thing unless you absolutely have to."  
  
"Okay," April said. She looked paler than usual as she clutched Ben's keys.  
  
Ben's heart swelled as he looked back and forth between April and Andy. "Hey—both of you—thank you. For everything."  
  
His words hung in the air for a moment with a note of farewell that Ben was certain all of them felt. He wasn't ready for this. He was supposed to have two more months. He nodded briefly at both of them, hoping they understood even in part just how much they meant to him.  
  
Leslie clutched his hand and pulled him out of the office and toward a back entrance. Ben didn't look back. He didn't want to think about what he was leaving behind.  
  
It only took them a few minutes to find April's car in the parking lot.   
  
"I'll drive," said Leslie, unlocking the doors of the decaying Honda Civic.  
  
Ben put his hands down on the roof of the car and shook his head. "No. Leslie, you can't come with us. It might not be safe. You can't—"  
  
"Hey," she gave him a hard look, "I chose this. I chose you, and everything that comes with you. That doesn't change now. I still know Pawnee and the surrounding area better than you do. I can get you someplace safe. And this still might be a false alarm. Until we know for sure . . ." Her voice rose in pitch and cut off suddenly, as if she struggled to contain her emotions.  
  
"Okay," said Ben. "Okay. You can stay for now. But . . ."  
  
"I know. Get in."  
  
He slid in beside her and they remained silent as she pulled around to the entrance where they were supposed to meet Chris.  
  
There was too much to say, and no time to say it.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Chris dashed out the door and jumped into the back seat, taken aback for just a moment to see Leslie in the driver's seat. Immediately Leslie peeled away, turning onto the street and heading away from City Hall as fast as was safe.   
  
Chris didn't normally sweat, but right now he could feel beads of moisture forming on his forehead. "What's going on?"  
  
Ben turned to fill Chris in. "Two guys are wandering City Hall looking for me. April ran into them and got suspicious, so she told us. We decided it would be best to get out of there and let the cops go check it out."  
  
Chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes. That does seem like the prudent move. Have you called Burdette and Lewis yet? Are we heading to the police station?"  
  
He looked back and forth between Ben and Leslie. Neither of them seemed to have an answer for him.  
  
Chris could feel the black knot of anger rearing up inside of him. They were really going to risk everything for a few extra hours together? No. This had to end. Chris had had enough.   
  
"Give me a phone," he said. "Now."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie blinked rapidly to clear her eyes. She wasn't ready for this. How could anyone ever be ready for something like this? "Don't be hasty," she said to Chris. "This might still turn out to be a false alarm."  
  
"And you're willing to risk our lives for that?" Chris said.  
  
No one was at risk. Not yet.  
  
"Look," she said, "April is calling the police even as we speak. They'll go find the suspicious individuals and take care of them, while I take us all someplace safe, far away from City Hall. It'll be fine." She put her foot down a little harder on the gas pedal to speed through a yellow light.  
  
"Leslie!" Chris huffed. "You just missed the turn to the police station."  
  
"We don't have to go the police station. I know plenty of safe places to hide out. Trust me." She tried to force some cheer into her voice, but she knew it sounded as fake as it felt.  
  
"There are protocols we have to follow," Chris insisted. "It's not just our lives—it’s the entire case, and everyone affected by it. You have to think bigger than yourself, Leslie."  
  
His words stung. She'd made a whole career out of thinking bigger than herself. But right now all she wanted was a little more time to be selfish.  
  
"Leslie?" said Ben quietly.  
  
She took a deep breath. "This might just be April's overactive imagination. Okay? Give me an hour. One hour. I know a safe place we can stay. No one would think to look there."  
  
"Leslie, I don't want this to be real, either, but I think Chris might be right. We have to follow protocol." Ben's voice was soft and his eyes glistened.  
  
"As soon as we go to the police or call the marshals—that's it." Her voice shook as she gave voice to the elephant in the room.  
  
Ben reached out to rest his hand on her thigh. "I know. I'm not ready either. But we have to."  
  
 _No! Not yet. It's not going to end like this._  
  
"Thirty minutes," Leslie insisted. "Just thirty minutes. I'll get us out of town and call April. Please. Just give me thirty minutes?"  
  
Ben frowned a little and turned to look back at Chris.  
  
Chris spoke. "All right. Thirty minutes. But not a minute more."  
  
Leslie nodded and sped up a little more, hoping with all her heart that April was wrong.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
"Did you actually see these men carrying weapons?" asked the nasal-voiced 911 operator.  
  
April rolled her eyes. "No."  
  
"Then did they verbally threaten your friend?"  
  
"No," April repeated, clenching her teeth. Stupid people.  
  
"So basically you're just calling to report two strangers showing up in City Hall? Is this a joke?"  
  
"Look," said April, "The fill-in city managers, Ben Wyatt and Chris Traeger, are hiding out from some enemies and those guys are assassins that are here to kill them. Got it?"  
  
"That's it, missy. You've officially crossed the line. I'm going to see to it that you get a ticket for this. 911 is not something to play games with."  
  
"Fine. Send someone to city hall right now to arrest me. Go for it." Anything to get the cops here.  
  
The operator wasn't buying it. "Not a chance. I'm ending this call. You can expect a citation in the mail." With that, the operator hung up.  
  
April huffed and glared at the phone, willing the operator's headset to go up in flames. She turned to Andy. "Okay. The 911 lady was stupid. So we have to distract those guys to give Leslie, Ben and Chris a head start. This is the real shit, babe. Are you ready?"  
  
Andy's eyes blazed with an intensity that, under other circumstances, would have been a huge turn on. "I was born ready, babe."  
  
"Okay. Let's do this. Follow my lead."  
  
April and Andy lingered in the corridor near the elevator until the tall dudes in overcoats reappeared, with grumpy frowns on their faces.  
  
"Hey guys," April waved at the overcoat guys.   
  
Scruff face stalked toward her. "So the people on the fourth floor sent me to the city manager's office, and Ben wasn't in either place."  
  
"Yeah—I just ran into him. I told him some old friends were looking for him, but you didn't tell me your name so I couldn't tell him who. But he said he was going to lunch at Ray's. Maybe you can find him there?" April wasn't sure if this would work, but these guys looked pretty easy to dupe.  
  
Scruff face's eyes narrowed. "I'm starting to think you're just messing with me."  
  
"She's not. I was there. Ben's totally going to Ray's. We could take you there, if you want," said Andy.  
  
April clenched her teeth. Giving a ride to a couple of assassins wasn't part of her plan. Maybe she could back them down from that. "Well, we could lead you there. We're going to lunch nearby, so you could follow us."  
  
Scruff face flared his nostrils. "How about you just give me directions?"  
  
"I really suck at giving directions." April smacked her gum, feigning a blank expression.  
  
Andy laughed. "She really does. She gave me directions to her grandma's house once, and I ended up at a truck stop."  
  
April smiled. That story was true. But it was more because Andy wrote the directions on a tissue and then blew his nose on it than because of anything else. But these guys didn't need to know that. "Seriously—you can just follow us."  
  
Scruff face turned to meet his stoic companion's eyes, and then looked back, frowning. "Fine. Lead the way."  
  
Perfect.  
  
April took Andy's hand. "Come on, then." She sashayed toward the parking lot, hoping it wouldn't take her too long to find Ben's car.   
  
Fortunately it was parked in the first row. Naturally he made it to work early enough to park close. April unlocked the doors and headed for the driver's seat. She waggled her fingers in a friendly wave at the overcoats still following them. She shivered a little in the cold breeze. She'd forgotten to grab her coat.  
  
"I'll wait at the exit until you pull up behind me, and then I'll lead you right to Ray's," she called.  
  
The overcoats nodded and headed further out into the parking lot.  
  
April took a deep breath and climbed into the car beside Andy. She shivered again. It wasn't fear. Really. Those guys wouldn't hurt her or Andy in public. Probably. Maybe. Okay, so maybe she was a little scared. But Leslie needed this, and April would do anything for Leslie. Well, not as much as she would do for Andy, but  _almost_  anything. And she respected Chris and Ben. What they were doing was important. It mattered. And she wouldn't let some entitled prick win this one. Not if there was something she could do to stop it.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben watched Leslie's face as she drove. It fluctuated between strength and anxiety every few seconds. He felt like he was watching a mirror of his heart.  
  
This was it. The beginning of the end.  
  
He wasn't any more ready for it than Leslie.  
  
It could be eighteen months—or two years—or more—before he saw her again. He struggled to find words. How could he say goodbye to the person who'd come to mean more to him than anyone else in the world? How could he leave her behind when things between them had only just begun?  
  
He swallowed hard. "Leslie—I understand why you don't want to call the marshals. I don't either. But . . . but we have to face reality here. We both knew this could happen. I . . . " God, it hurt.  
  
"I know. I know," she whispered, her eyes still on the road. She gripped the wheel like it was a life preserver.  
  
"If I could stay forever, I would," he said in a low voice.  
  
She squeezed her lips together and nodded. "Thanks. That . . . thanks."  
  
"I mean it."  
  
"I know," she says. "Really, I do. And I know I'm not being rational."  
  
"It's okay. I get it." His throat felt tight. He squeezed her thigh. "Everything's going to be okay."  
  
She dropped one hand from the wheel to take his hand.  
  
It wasn't quite a lie, but it wasn't quite the truth either. For now, though, it would be enough.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Leslie needed a plan. A better plan.  
  
She couldn't go to the marshals. Not yet. As much as she loved April and Andy, they weren't always the best judges of character. If this turned out to be a false alarm, there was still a chance—she might not have to lose him, yet.  
  
 _He'd stay here forever if he had the chance._  
  
But if it wasn't a false alarm . . . They could all be in danger.  
  
Leslie pulled out her phone and dialed Ron.  
  
"Swanson speaking."  
  
"Ron, I need your help. Ben and Chris are in trouble. It's a long story, but we think there are some guys with weapons after them. I'm taking them to the rangers' cabin at Slippery Elm Park to hide out until we're sure they're safe, but none of us are armed. Could you meet us there with some guns? I want to make sure we're—"  
  
"Say no more, Leslie. I'll be there. If the threat is real, you need firearms. I'll meet you at the Slippery Elm cabin in thirty minutes."  
  
Leslie took a deep breath of relief. At least they'd be safe—regardless of what else happened. "Thank you. Really."  
  
"I'm on my way."  
  
Leslie heard a loud sigh from the back seat.  
  
"This isn't a very good plan," said Chris.  
  
"It's better than no plan at all," she replied. "And my thirty minutes aren't up, so you're going to humor me."  
  
Chris sighed again. "Yes. It appears that I am."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
  
"Um, babe, Ray's is back that way," said Andy, peering over his shoulder to see if the black SUV was still trailing them. This was, without a doubt, the coolest thing he'd ever done. Bert Macklin's greatest adventure, yet.  
  
Of course, any adventure with April would be the greatest.  
  
"I know. We're not really going to Ray's," said April.  
  
Awesome. A plot twist. "So where are leading them? Do you know a place where we can send them over a cliff? Or into an abandoned quarry? Or careening into a diesel storage tank? That would be awesome."  
  
"No. But that would be awesome."  
  
"Wouldn't it?" Andy laughed.  
  
"Yeah. But we're being safe. We're going to the police station."  
  
"Whoa." Andy's eyes went wide. His wife was so freaking smart. "That is the best plan ever, babe. They'll walk in expecting sandwiches, and instead they'll get cold steel bars."  
  
Andy couldn't wait to see it all go down.  
  
A few minutes later they got close to the police station. April turned left into the police parking lot. Andy's smile faded as the black GMC Terrain that had been following them sped on past. "Damn it. They just left." Super bummer. But, now that he thought about it, those guys probably had guns. And he didn't really want any guys with guns around April.  
  
"Yeah," said April, "I kind of thought this might happen. But we can still go in. Maybe the cops can chase after them."  
  
That would still be pretty sweet.  
  
He strode into the station with a bounce in his step and grinned as he faced down the officer behind the front desk. "Hello officer, ma'am," he said. "We've got a situation in which a pair of armed perpetrators were located at city hall, and they subsequently followed our vehicle here to the station, but when we turned to enter, the perps continued onward in a northerly direction."  
  
The officer raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"  
  
April sighed and laid her palms flat on the counter. "We need to make a report. There are two guys in town and I'm pretty sure they're trying to kill my friends. It has to do with the federal witness protection program."  
  
The officer's eyebrows shot even higher. But just then Chief Trumple stepped out from behind some desks. "Did you say witness protection?"  
  
"Yes sir," said Andy immediately. This just kept getting better and better.  
  
"Bring 'em back here. Now," said Trumple.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
The office was unusually empty this morning, thought Jerry. Well, he still had stacks of papers to process, and now there would be no distractions. Maybe he'd finish in time to go out to lunch with Gayle.  
  
A few minutes later two tall men in dark suits and coats strode into the Parks Department. Since everyone else but Donna was gone, Jerry put a wide smile on his face and strode up to the front desk.  
  
"Good morning. Can I help you?"  
  
One of the men nodded. "Yeah. I'm looking for my old friend Ben, and someone from sewage just told me that he's dating someone here in the Parks Department, so I thought I'd drop by to see if he's here."  
  
Jerry grinned. Old friends of Ben! How nice of them to stop by. Jerry loved visits from old friends. "Yes—well, no. Ben is dating our Deputy Director, Leslie. But they left for lunch already."  
  
The man frowned. "I can't seem to reach him on his cell. Do you have any idea where they went? I have some urgent news for him."  
  
Jerry's eyebrows rose. "Is it about his mom? I know she was in an accident. Did something happen?"  
  
The man nodded with a solemn expression on his face. "Yes. It's about his mom. I really need to see him as soon as possible."  
  
Jerry searched his memory for anything that might help. He knew that if someone needed to get him a message about his family, he hoped his friends would do everything they could to make sure he got the message. Jerry intended to do the same. He raised his pointer finger as a memory popped back into his mind.  
  
"You know—I did hear my boss Ron talking to Leslie on the phone about fifteen minutes ago. He said something about meeting her at the Slippery Elm park rangers' cabin. Maybe they're having some sort of department head inspection of the facility. Ben is probably with them. I can give you directions to the cabin, if you want to try to find them there. I know cell service out there can be spotty."  
  
"Yes—I'd really appreciate it," replied the man.  
  
Jerry found a notepad and scribbled down the address and some basic directions. "Here you go. I hope you find him." He handed over note.  
  
"Me too." The stranger grinned. "Thanks for your help."  
  
"Anything for a friend," replied Jerry with a smile.   
  
When the strangers left he sat down with a happy feeling in his chest. So maybe he wouldn't make it to a lunch with Gayle, but at least he helped a friend. He only hoped the news they had for Ben wasn't anything terrible. Jerry hated to see his friends in trouble.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
  
As sympathetic as Chris felt for the plight of his friends, his impatience grew with every passing moment.   
  
The car rolled off of the paved road onto an un-ploughed gravel road. He was glad there'd been no new snow in more than four days, or they never would have made it. He only hoped there'd be cell phone service. He glanced at his watch again. Six minutes left.  
  
"Leslie, we need to call April soon."  
  
"I know," she replied. "We're almost there."  
  
A few minutes later they pulled up in front of a snow-covered cabin surrounded by thick trees and a rolling landscape. It did seem like the ideal hide-out. But right now they didn't really need a hide-out—they needed to call the marshals.  
  
They all got out of the car and trudged through several inches of snow to the wrap-around porch. Leslie and Ben kicked the piled-up snow away from the door of the cabin, and then Leslie pulled out a heavily-laden key ring and unlocked it.  
  
Inside the dim cabin wasn't any warmer than outside, but at least there was no snow.  
  
"The furnace isn't on. Let me go get it started," said Leslie, turning to head down a hall.  
  
Chris stepped in front of her. No more distractions. "Leslie, the furnace can wait. You need to call April. It's time."  
  
Leslie automatically flicked her eyes to Ben. He nodded. "I'm sorry, but Chris is right. We need to check in with April to see what's happening."  
  
Leslie took a deep breath. "Okay."  
  
She pulled out her cell phone, and frowned. "I'm not getting service in here. Let me try outside."  
  
Chris and Ben followed her back to the porch. Leslie walked down the stairs and out into the crunchy snow. She wandered for a few moments before finding the signal she was looking for.  
  
As she called, Chris turned to Ben. "I'm sorry. We're going to have to call the marshals. There's no getting out of this—not now that April and god knows who else know who we really are."  
  
Ben looked down and nodded. "I know. I should've insisted on calling from the start. But she . . . and I . . ."  
  
Chris rested his hand on Ben's shoulder. He remembered the day he said goodbye to Kelsey for the last time. It had been one of the worst days of his life. He needed to be here for Ben. "I understand."  
  
"I know you do."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie held her breath until April picked up.  
  
"Hey, are you safe?" were the first words Leslie heard. April had never sounded more concerned.  
  
"Yes, we're fine. Are you guys okay?"  
  
"Yeah," replied April. "We're at the police station."  
  
Leslie's heart dropped. So that was it. She was too late to rein this in. Today was the last day. "Oh. Okay."  
  
"They sent some officers to city hall to make sure everything is secure, and I gave them a license plate number off the guys' car. But they haven't found them yet." April's voice got quieter for a moment, as if she was turning her face away from the phone. "What? Yeah. It's Leslie . . . okay." She got louder again. "Chief Trumple wants to talk to you."  
  
Leslie clenched her teeth together as she waited for April to hand over the phone. As much as she respected Chief Trumple, right now he only reminded her that her timeline had suddenly dropped from two more months to two more hours. Damn it—none of this was fair.  
  
"Leslie? Are Wyatt and Traeger with you? Or whatever their names really are?" Chief Trumple sounded exasperated.  
  
"They are. We're all safe."  
  
"Good. Now, I wondered what was up when a federal marshal contacted me to expedite getting Wyatt a gun license. Are they really in the witness protection program?"  
  
Leslie sighed. "Yes. Yes, they are."  
  
"Damn. I never would have guessed it. I'm going to need to contact the marshals that are on their case, and then I need to know your location so I can send a protective detail out to you."  
  
And so it began. Leslie swallowed her emotions. This needed to be done. "Yes. Of course. We're at the park rangers' cabin at Slippery Elm Park. Do you know it?"  
  
"Yep. I'll send some officers right away. What about those marshals?"  
  
Leslie took a deep breath. Okay. It was time. "Here, I'll hand the phone over to Ben Wyatt. He'll get you that information."  
  
She lowered the phone and called, "Ben—you need to give the contact info for the marshals to Chief Trumple. He's on the phone."  
  
Ben nodded and trudged down the stairs, his expression bleak. With a knot in her throat, she handed him the phone. She bit down on her tongue while she listened to him recite the names and phone numbers of the marshals. It was as if she could hear doors slamming shut and locks being turned to keep her and Ben apart.  
  
After he hung up, he met her eyes. "I'm going to have to call the marshals, now," he said.  
  
Leslie nodded. It was too late to stop this. "Go ahead. I understand."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben was grateful when Burdette took his news with an air of cool professionalism. The last thing he needed right was more high emotions or near-panic. She calmly told them to stay put and wait for the police protective detail. She and Lewis would be there in less than three hours to expedite their removal from Pawnee.  
  
He hung up and stared down at the footprint-riddled snow. His mind reviewed all his missteps over the past few months. Where might he have slipped up? Who might he have talked to, what might he have done? Somehow, he knew in his gut that this was his fault. He was the reason his friends were in danger. He was the reason  _Leslie_  was in danger.  
  
He should have left in November.  
  
Even the thought of it made him squeeze his eyes shut to hide from the pain. The past six weeks with Leslie had been like a dream. It was the life he'd been searching for ever since leaving college, though he hadn't realized it until now.  
  
But it was time to give it up. If there was one thing Ben had learned over the past two years, it was that he wasn't meant to be happy. Some people simply didn't have that option in life, and he was one of those poor ill-fated souls. He didn't know why, but happiness just wasn't on the table for him.  
  
He needed to say good-bye.  
  
He swallowed hard and turned back to the cabin. Leslie stood waiting on the porch.  
  
Ben forced a smile and nodded at her. She nodded back, but he could see the tension in the lines around her eyes.  
  
When he reached her, he grasped her hand and held on tight as they walked back inside. He didn't want to let go again until the very last moment.  
  
Chris had managed to light the furnace, but it was still cold inside. Ben and Leslie huddled close together on a loveseat, while Chris paced near the door, looking out the window. It wasn't as private as Ben would have liked, but he was grateful for it anyway.  
  
They didn't say much. What could he possibly say in a few minutes to carry them through the next year and a half? He had no idea.  
  
Instead, he kissed her. He kissed her soft and tender, and then desperate and needy. He held her hands and traced the contours of her face with his fingertips. He memorized the feeling of her silky hair beneath his palm and the scent of her favorite shampoo. He relished the feeling of her breath on his cheek and her nose bumping up against his when they shifted positions. He held onto her because he wasn't ready to let go.  
  
After a few minutes, Leslie whispered to him, her voice shaking, "I could come with you. I could do the whole identity-change thing and come with you, wherever you go."  
  
For one brief moment Ben froze, letting the prospect of bringing her along—of playing house for the next two years until everything was resolved—linger in his mind. Then he fought back the swell of pain in his chest and shook his head. "No. You can't."  
  
"We could ask—" She clutched as his jacket as she spoke.  
  
"No. Your life is here. Your friends are here. You have a job that you love and a town that means the world to you. I can't take you away from this. Everything you care about—everything you love—is here."   
  
"Not everything," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.  
  
Ben leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers. He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. As the profundity of what he was about to lose hit him, he felt like his heart would burst.  
  
Some people weren't meant to be happy. But Leslie wasn't one of them.  
  
"I wish I could say yes," he whispered. "I wish we could run off together and be happy. But I know we can't. It's too much of a sacrifice. You'd been giving up too much for too little. And we might be happy at first—we might even be kind of happy for a long time. But behind it, you'd always regret what you had to leave. You might even start to resent me for it. I couldn't live with myself knowing that I'd been so selfish as to take you away from your amazing life for something that will never, ever compare. I can't do that to you. I won't. This is where you belong."  
  
Leslie closed her eyes and sniffled. "I know. I know. God, I hate it. But I know."  
  
Ben wanted to tell her how much he loved her. He wanted to tell her that he'd wait for her, no matter how long it took. But that would be selfish, too. He couldn't make her feel bound to him, or obligated to wait. She deserved so much more. She deserved to find the happiness that he knew was out there waiting for her. So he kept silent, simply holding her close, sharing the warmth of his body in the cold. There was nothing more he could do.  
  
A few moments later Chris called out, "Ron's here."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ron unpacked the weapons from his duffle bag while Ben, Leslie and Chris all babbled some story about witness protection, white collar crime and secret assassins. He didn't want to hear any of it. Ron had zero desire to have their complicated problems foisted upon him.  
  
However, he'd heard enough to know that the danger was clear and present. Ben was a good enough fellow, and Leslie—well, he'd do far more than he'd ever admit out loud for Leslie. Ron supposed that Chris was part of the package. He'd keep them safe until the police arrived.  
  
"Thank you, so much, Ron," said Leslie. "We really appreciate your help. But now it looks like the police are only fifteen or twenty minutes behind you. We probably didn't need this after all."  
  
Ron squeezed his lips together to contain his ire. "Your lives are in danger. The police are still fifteen or twenty minutes away. Arming yourselves until the police arrive is the intelligent thing to do."  
  
He held Leslie's gaze for a moment, and then turned his eyes to Ben. Ben nodded first. "Ron's right. We need to take every precaution."  
  
Finally, some good sense.  
  
Ben took a Glock 9mm, Leslie opted for the shotgun, and Ron held his trusty Colt 1911 with a back-up revolver in his coat pocket. He wasn't terribly surprised when Chris declined to arm himself. That man never had shown much gumption when it came to important matters.  
  
"I'm sorry," said Chris, waving his hands as Leslie tried to convince him to carry a pistol. "I have never handled a gun in my life, and I don't intend to start now. Even if I did, I have no idea what I'm doing. I'd likely do more harm than good."  
  
"Are you sure?" asked Leslie.  
  
"Positive," Chris insisted.  
  
"Enough chit-chat," said Ron. "This cabin isn't well known, but that's no guarantee that we won't be found. There's too many windows for an effective defense, so our best option is to keep a watch at all the front windows. I'll pull my car around the back. If your assassins arrive by the road, we'll see them. Leslie and I can remain at the front windows to provide covering fire while Ben and Chris exit through the back and get to the car."  
  
Ben frowned. "No. We can't leave the two of you."  
  
Ron raised his hand to stop Ben. "We'll disable the attackers' vehicle and then join you out back. My car isn't well equipped to go off road, but we only need to head through the woods far enough to reach the road. If the police are really on their way, we should be able to stay far enough ahead of any attackers to intercept the police on their way here."  
  
Leslie nodded. "Okay. That's a better plan than any of us could think up. I say we do it."  
  
Ben didn't look convinced, but he nodded in agreement. Chris's vote on the matter was unimportant, seeing as he'd opted out of participating in their defense.  
  
"All right. Take up your positions at the front windows while I move my car," said Ron.  
  
The terrain behind the cabin wasn't very forgiving, but Ron felt confident that his car could handle a short trip off-road to meet up with the police, if necessary. Though it would likely need significant repairs afterward.  
  
But some sacrifices were worth making.  
  
When he came inside from the back entrance, he noticed that instead of properly distributing themselves along the front windows, Ben and Leslie stood side by side at the same window, holding hands.  
  
He sighed. Leslie was going to have a hard time of it for the next few weeks. If there weren't more pressing matters, he'd probably be angry at Ben for drawing Leslie into an untenable relationship. But for now, he'd let it go.  
  
Ron took up a stance at an empty front window, and waited.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
A chill ran down Chris's spine when, less than ten minutes after Ron's arrival, a black SUV slowly approached the cabin.  
  
"That's not the police, is it?" he asked Ron, a dreadful certainty already sitting in his chest like a stone.  
  
"No. It's not. Get your weapons at the ready. Chris—my keys are in the ignition. Be ready."  
  
"Oh god." Chris felt wobbly, and steadied himself on the windowsill as his three companions all crouched down and pointed their weapons out the windows.  
  
He dropped to the ground and felt his heart racing. His heart never raced.  
  
"Here they come," said Ron. "Chris—get ready to go."  
  
Chris took a few deep breaths to steady himself and locked his eyes on the hall to the back door.  
  
"Remember to target their SUV first," said Leslie. "Only target those guys if they become an immediate threat. We don't want to risk bringing charges down on ourselves if they turn out to be someone other than who we think they are."  
  
A silence fell for a few agonizing seconds.  
  
"They're drawing guns!" Ben's voice rang out.  
  
Chris didn't know whether the first shots came from inside the cabin or out. It was all happening so fast.  
  
Broken glass scattered across the floor, and his ears rang from the reports filling the air.  
  
"Go! Go! Go!"  
  
Chris didn't know who shouted the command, but he listened. He dove over a patch of broken glass and crawled at high speed for the back door.  
  
The bright sun reflecting off the white snow blinded him for a moment as he tumbled out the door. Gasping for breath he charged through the crisp blanket covering the earth to reach the car. Shots still rang out behind him.  
  
Someone could be hurt. Someone could be dead.  
  
No. He couldn't think about that now. He turned the key, and revved the car.  
  
Moments later Ben dashed out the back door, Leslie hot on his heels.  
  
"Get in, get in," Ben said, ushering Leslie into the back seat. He dashed around to the passenger side and opened the door, but remained standing, his gun held at the ready.  
  
Chris couldn't believe this was happening. How could this be happening? They were supposed to be safe. This wasn't supposed to happen. It was like the courthouse all over again, only worse.  
  
"Oh god," he moaned.  
  
"It'll be okay, Chris," said Leslie. "Keep you foot on the brake and put it drive. Be ready to go as soon as Ron gets here."  
  
Chris followed her instructions. He could do this. They depended on him. He had to do this.  
  
Ben jumped into the car and Ron barreled out the door with a roar on his lips while diving head first into the back seat. "Go! Go!"  
  
Chris didn't hesitate.  
  
He slammed the gas and aimed the car at the biggest gap in the trees.  
  
They bumped and bounced over the uneven terrain, almost flying out of their seats with the open door swinging wildly.  
  
Chris felt the car lurch as they went over a rock hidden by the snow, and when he veered to compensate he narrowly missed a tree. It cracked against the open door, slamming it shut, and scraped along the side of the car.  
  
"Veer left," called Leslie. "That'll take us to the road."  
  
"Are they following?" asked Chris.  
  
"On foot. We took out their tires," replied Ron.  
  
Chris wanted to feel relieved, but he couldn't. Not yet.  
  
"The road's not far," said Leslie. "We just need to get on it and head out. We should run right into the cops on their way to meet us."  
  
Chris gripped the wheel, desperately trying to keep the car under control. They jounced toward a slight rise in the terrain. Chris steered to go over the gentlest section, but the gap between trees was narrow. He slowed down and aimed the car carefully.  
  
The front tire hit a hidden rock, jolting them hard. Before Chris had a chance to regain control, they were stuck on a low, snow-covered ridge in the ground, high centered, wobbling like a teeter-totter.  
  
"Shit," Chris swore.  
  
"Can we get the tires back on the ground?" Ben asked, a note of panic in his voice.  
  
"It'll take too long," said Ron. "Our best option is to head for the road on foot. The police can't be far, now. We'll still get to them before our friends back at the cabin."  
  
Chris nodded, turning the car off. He may not be able to handle a gun, but he sure as hell knew how to hike.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben stayed shoulder to shoulder with Leslie as they jogged over the rough terrain. His breath puffed in small clouds in front of his face.  
  
Thank god for Ron. Thank god for April. Today was a worst-case scenario, but without his friends it would have been fatal.  
  
His foot hit a fallen branch and he stumbled, but Leslie squeezed his hand tighter and pulled until he righted himself. "I'm okay. Keep going."  
  
They picked up the pace. He was grateful for all his krav maga training. Without it he'd never have had the stamina for this jog.  
  
A few minutes later they reached the road. The snow had been packed down by the passage of a few cars, but there was enough dirt and gravel mixed in that it wasn't slick.  
  
They all hit the road and immediately began moving even faster.  
  
"If we don't run into the police soon," huffed Ron as he jogged, "we might have to make for the woods again. We'll need the cover if they catch up with us."  
  
Ben glanced nervously over his shoulder at the long straight stretch of road. Damn. This could be a big problem.  
  
A few minutes later everyone began to lag except Chris. Ben could see Leslie's face drooping with exhaustion. If the police didn't turn up soon, he wasn't sure they could keep going.  
  
Their pace grew slower with every passing minute.  
  
"There!" shouted Chris, pointing through the woods in the direction of the cabin. Two dark shapes moved through the woods.  
  
Without further prompting all four of them rushed into the woods on the opposite side of the road. Ben could feel a dark wave of panic closing in on him.  
  
He gritted his teeth and gripped the pistol in his hand. There was no time for panic. Not now.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Chris dove behind a rocky rise in the ground and burrowed into the snow at the base of a tree. His friends took more active positions behind other trees and rocky outcroppings around him. For the first time, he started to wish that he'd taken a gun when he had the chance.  
  
"I'm almost out of ammo," Leslie whispered loudly to his right.  
  
"Only shoot if you have to," replied Ron. "All we have to do is hold them off until the police arrive."  
  
Chris closed his eyes and shivered. If he focused hard enough, sending his wishes out into the universe, would the police get there faster?   
  
He turned his head to look over where Ben and Leslie crouched together behind a large tree. Their happiness hadn't been enough to save them from this. Nothing would ever be enough. Everson had ruined their lives, and there was no going back, no matter how much they wished for it.  
  
Ben peered around his tree and raised his gun.  
  
"Hold off," whispered Ron. "Let them get closer, so they're easier targets. Conserve your bullets."  
  
Ben sank back down behind the tree, and reached out with his free hand to brush Leslie's hair back from her face. They leaned toward each other, resting their foreheads together, whispering.  
  
Chris couldn't hear their words, but he could see the fear in their eyes. And the love.  
  
Damn it. If that wasn't worth fighting for, what was? He took a few deep breaths and clenched his teeth. This might be the end, but he wouldn't go down easy.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
"We can do this. The police will be here any minute," whispered Leslie, trying to convince herself as much as Ben.  
  
"I know," he whispered back. "We're strong. We have Ron to help. We'll make it through this."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Leslie took a deep breath, fleetingly regretting all the things she'd left unsaid. But there would still be time. There had to be. "We need to get ready."  
  
"Yes."  
  
They both shifted, readying their weapons for the next attack.  
  
Leslie wasn't sure if she'd ever be comfortable shooting again after this. Somehow it didn't seem fun anymore. But she was glad she'd spent years learning and practicing. She knew what to do—no matter how much she didn't want to do it.  
  
She edged toward the side of the side, holding her shotgun at the ready against her shoulder.  
  
All she could hear was the rustle of pine needles in the breeze and sound of Ben breathing beside her.   
  
She waited.  
  
 _Crunch. Crunch._  
  
Footsteps in the snow moved toward them, getting ever closer. She looked to Ron. He held up a hand, signaling that they should keep waiting. Wait for their quarry to come to them.  
  
 _Crunch. Crunch._  
  
The footsteps were even closer now—almost on top of them.  
  
Leslie and Ben both turned to their left. Chris crouched behind some cover not far from them. And the footsteps were coming.  
  
His pistol stretched out in front of him, one of the dark-clad assassins stepped slowly forward, moving in between Leslie and Chris.  
  
He'd see them soon. He was turning toward her position.   
  
Leslie prepared to fire.  
  
When Chris suddenly sprang on him from behind, hitting him with a series of sharp jabs and kicks, including a thrust to his windpipe.  
  
While the assassin was still choking from the jab to his throat, Chris twisted his arm hard, pulling on the man's thumb until the handgun went flying into a deep drift.  
  
Chris landed a final kick to side of the man's leg, and he went down.  
  
Leslie's heart pounded and her eyes were wide with astonishment. She never would have guessed that Chris had something like that in him.  
  
Ben dashed out to grab the prone man and dragged him back behind their cover. Chris ran over to join them.  
  
"Let's tie him up," said Ben, pulling off his necktie with one hand and tossing to Chris, who gasped and nodded with a flushed face.  
  
Leslie heard Ron chuckling behind her, and turned to glance at him.  
  
"Well done, Traeger," he said. "I guess those krav maga classes paid off after all."  
  
Chris nodded as he bound their still-gasping assailant's arms with Ben's tie. "I have literally never had so much adrenaline coursing through my veins in my entire life."  
  
"There's still one guy out there," said Ben. "Get back in position." He moved up to the tree, holding his gun.  
  
Though the temporary victory left her elated, Ben was right.   
  
She lifted her gun and moved toward the tree.  
  
"Get down!" shouted Ben.  
  
Shots filled the air, and Leslie found herself lying in the snow.  
  
 _How did I get here?_  
  
Pain beyond anything she'd ever experienced flared in her abdomen, and the whole world went white.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben moved back toward the tree, raising his gun. "There's still one guy out there. Get back in position."  
  
His heart pounding, he leaned to peer around the tree.  
  
A gunman stood no more than ten feet in front of him, his pistol raised.  
  
"Get down!" Ben shouted, jumping back behind cover as shots rang out.  
  
Splinters flew through the air and he turned his head in time to see Leslie hit the ground.  
  
"No!" Fear, horror and anger filled his chest.  
  
Without thinking he raised his gun and darted around the tree, firing.  
  
The gunman's arms flew up in the air as he toppled backward.  
  
Ben froze, staring in shock at what he'd done.  
  
A primal roar sounded behind him, and Ben shivered as Ron charged past him to pummel the downed gunman with the butt of his pistol.  
  
Ben gasped, and wheeled around.  
  
 _Leslie._  
  
He stumbled back toward their cover, and froze again. His pistol slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground.  
  
A red stain spread in the white snow around Leslie's left side. She wasn't moving.  
  
Chris crouched over her, both his hands covering her welling wound, applying pressure to staunch the flow.  
  
"She's still breathing," said Chris. "She just passed out. Probably the pain. We need to stop this bleeding."  
  
Ben couldn't breathe. He stared down at the warm redness cutting an inexorable path through the snow, inching ever outward.  
  
Leslie was going to die.  
  
His breath came in short gasps. Darkness closed in around him.  
  
"Pull yourself together!" Chris shouted. "We can still save her! Help me!"  
  
Ben shook his head and stumbled forward, landing on his knees in the blood-stained snow. "You need something for the blood," he mumbled, staring at the welling red. He pushed back the encroaching darkness and ripped off his shirt, wadding it up. "Here."  
  
Chris grabbed the shirt and pressed it down over the wound. Redness began to spread across the white and grey checked fabric.  
  
"Leslie," Ben gasped, taking her hand and leaning over her. "Please don't leave me. Please. You can't die. Not like this. I love you. Please. I love you so much. Don't leave me." His voice shook and his eyes blurred with tears.  
  
He could hardly hear the sound of police sirens approaching over the beating of his own heart.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Leslie felt the pain again, throbbing, burning, pounding. God, it hurt so much. Why wouldn't it stop?  
  
She heard herself moaning and whimpering before she realized it was coming out of her mouth. After a short struggle she blinked her eyes a few times and looked up. A man in a police uniform crouched over her, and she saw the windows and roof of a car over her head. She seemed to be stretched out on the back seat of a police car.  
  
They turned, setting her wound on fire again. She whimpered again.  
  
"It's okay, ma'am. We're almost to the hospital. You're going to be okay."  
  
Nothing was going to be okay. Ever. Leslie moaned. "Ben. Where's Ben?"  
  
"Be patient ma'am. We're just a few minutes away."  
  
The car turned again, and the new wave of pain was too much. Everything went dark.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Tonya hopped out of the car before Lewis even put it in park. She strode toward the small cabin, now surrounded by two police cars and one ambulance.  
  
It didn't matter to her that the local PD had reported her protectees to be in good condition. They were her responsibility, and she had to see them for herself.  
  
She flashed her badge at the cops clustered outside the house and barreled up the stairs.  
  
She stopped with a gasp just inside the front door.   
  
Chris and Ben sat on a couch, their clothes covered in blood, with blankets draped around their shoulders.  
  
"Oh my god."  
  
Chris quickly stood and walked toward her. "It's not our blood. We're okay."  
  
Tonya swallowed and nodded. The police had filled her in on everything.  
  
"Have you heard anything about Leslie?" asked Ben with a wavering voice.  
  
Tonya steadied herself. Her charges were safe. Now she had work to do. She walked toward Ben and nodded. "Yes. She made it to hospital safely, and she's being treated for her wounds. The doctors are optimistic that she'll make a full recovery."  
  
Ben closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. "Thank god. Thank god," he muttered.  
  
"The priority now is to get the two of you to a secure location. We've got to—"  
  
"So you're the one responsible for this debacle?" a loud voice rumbled.  
  
Tonya blinked in surprise as a beefy man with a mustache strode toward her from the back hall. His hair stood out in all directions and a splattering of blood covered his face and jacket. She was pretty certain she knew who this was.  
  
"I'm Federal Marshal Tonya Burdette. And I assume you're Ron Swanson?"  
  
He frowned and nodded. "I am. And I am appalled at how a government agency which spends millions of dollars of taxpayer money every year on witness relocation and protection can allow something like this to happen. One of the best human beings that I know on the face of this earth was shot today because you people didn't do your jobs well enough."  
  
Tonya opened her mouth to defend herself, but then stopped. Maybe flattery would be a better tactic to pacify him. "But, thanks to your timely intervention, Mr. Swanson, your friend is on track to survive and recover, and our witnesses are still in one piece. Your heroism in the face of danger was extraordinary, and we owe you our thanks. You're a true American hero, sir."  
  
Swanson huffed, but nodded and backed off. "All right, then."  
  
Tonya smiled briefly and turned back to Ben and Chris. "We need to get you to Indianapolis. We have a safe house ready and waiting."  
  
Ben lifted his head. "Can we go by the hospital first? Can I see her? Please?"  
  
Tonya was starting to get an inkling that Leslie had been a lot more than a friend to Ben. She'd have to have a long talk with him about it once he'd pulled himself together. She shook her head. "I'm sorry. We can't. We're going straight to Indy. No stops, no detours."  
  
Ben's expression grew even more desperate. "Can I at least write her a letter? I didn't get to say goodbye. I have to. . . I have to say something. . . I. . ."  
  
Tonya sighed. "You can write a letter once we get to the safe house. I'll make sure Leslie gets it. Come on. It's time to go."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben stared out the window of the car as they passed through Pawnee on their way to the highway. He wanted to memorize his last glimpse of the place he'd started to think of as home.  
  
But as they passed the snow-covered homes and businesses, all he could see was a field of red spreading out over the white landscape.  
  
  
  
TBC


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally published on LiveJournal in June 2013

As Leslie began to wake up, her head spun with thoughts of grant proposals that were due soon and lists of tasks to accomplish before launching the spring youth sports season when she noticed a persistent ache in her side.  
  
 _Did I eat some bad shrimp last night? Or run into a table? Or—?_  
  
She opened her eyes, gasping, as she remembered with sudden clarity the true source of her ache.  
  
"Leslie—sweetie—are you alright? Do you need any more pain medication?" Her mother leaped up from a chair beside her hospital bed and hurried to her side.  
  
Leslie blinked in the dim light of the various monitors and displays, with just a hint of dawn light creeping in around the blinds. "Mom? When did you get here?" Her voice came out in a low croak.   
  
Her mom took her hand and looked down at her with a strained smile. "I've been here all night, but you were pretty out of it when I got here. I'm not surprised you forgot. And Ann is here, too. She's just down the hall getting us some coffee."  
  
Leslie felt her muscles relax a little. Good. She needed Ann, right now. But first she needed to clear a few things up. She swallowed, and winced at her throat feeling as dry as it had ever been.  
  
"Was—was anyone else hurt?"  
  
Her mom's jaw was tight. She shook her head. "None of your friends were hurt."  
  
Leslie sighed and relaxed even more. She could bear the pain just fine, as long as no one else was hurt. "Good. Good." Her side ached when she took a deep breath, and a new fear pricked her mind. Wincing, she looked up at her mom. "Am I going to be all right?"  
  
Her mom held her hand a little tighter, and Leslie saw the gleam of moisture standing in her mother's eyes. Marlene nodded. "You're going to be okay. The doctor can explain better than I can, but yes—you'll bounce back from this."  
  
Leslie swallowed hard and nodded, tears welling in her own eyes. She wanted to ask about Ben—where was he? Why wasn't he here with her? But in her heart she already knew the answer. The marshals had come, and he was gone.  
  
 _I couldn't even say goodbye._  
  
Ann stepped into the room, each of her hands clutching a coffee cup. Her mouth flew open when she saw Leslie, and she rushed to the bed, setting the cups on the nearest table.  
  
"Oh my god, Leslie! I thought we'd lose you!" Tears stood in her bloodshot eyes, and her hair frizzled out around a messy ponytail.   
  
Leslie smiled as well as she could through the pain. "I'm still here."  
  
Ann's concerned expression broke into a smile and she let out a few soft laughs. "Thank god." Then her face hardened. "But if I ever see Ben again, I swear, I'll wring his neck until his face turns blue for getting you shot!"  
  
Leslie gasped and the pain in her side flared again. She blinked back a few tears and tried to focus on breathing without hurting herself. She'd explain everything to Ann later. Ann would understand—none of this was Ben's fault. She'd get it. Wouldn't she?  
  
"I think she needs more pain medication. Let me go get the doctor," said Ann, bustling back out.  
  
A nurse followed Ann back in soon after to give Leslie another dose of pain meds that not only reduced her pain but calmed her emotional turmoil, at least a little. By the time the doctor arrived she was feeling pleasantly floaty, and couldn't completely grasp everything he said, but she got the gist of it.  
  
Serious blood loss. Two fractured ribs. A lacerated liver. But very lucky.  
  
"De-what?" Leslie asked, stopping the doctor as he rambled on about the bullet.  
  
"Deformed. The bullet was already deformed when it hit you. It must have passed through an obstacle before reaching you."  
  
Leslie blinked a few times, trying to focus. "I was behind a tree. A big, beautiful tree."  
  
"Well," said the doctor, "that tree probably saved your life. If the bullet hadn't been deformed and slowed by passing through the tree first, it would have caused a great deal more damage. You probably would have bled out at the scene. But thanks to that tree we'll have you out of here in less than 72 hours, and back to work in less than two weeks."  
  
Squinting at the spots floating in front of her eyes, Leslie tilted her head a little, trying to make sense of it all. "Really?"  
  
The doctor nodded. "Really."  
  
"Wow." Back to work in less than two weeks. That was a small price to pay for keeping him safe. Them safe. Everyone safe. Whatever. Leslie shook her head a little to clear the spots from her vision and said the first thing that popped into her mind. "I really love that tree. All trees. Trees are the best."  
  
The doctor chuckled. "I can understand the sentiment."  
  
He rambled on about medications and expectations and therapies for a few more minutes, while Leslie found it increasingly difficult to focus her eyes. And ears. And mind.  
  
Ann stepped in. "Doctor, I think she's had enough for now. Maybe we should let her go back to sleep."  
  
"Of course." The doctor nodded.  
  
After he left, Ann and Marlene stood by Leslie, smiling down at her.  
  
"We'll let you sleep some more, sweetheart," said Marlene, a weary smile on her face. "The more you sleep, the faster you'll heal."  
  
"Is that really true?" Leslie asked.  
  
Marlene raised her eyebrows and looked at Ann. Ann shrugged. "I have no idea. But let's pretend it is, for now. Okay?"  
  
"Okay," whispered Leslie. Would the drugs make it so that she didn't dream? She hoped so. She couldn't take any bad dreams right now. "Will you be here when I wake up?" She really didn't want to be alone with her thoughts. Not yet.  
  
"Of course we will," said Ann. "Always."  
  
Leslie had no trouble believing her.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The rest of the day passed in a drug induced haze. Leslie didn't grasp much of what happened in her brief periods of wakefulness, other than being surrounded by reassuring nurses, reassuring doctors, a reassuring mother, and a reassuring Ann.  
  
The next morning, when she once more woke with an ache in her side, she gritted her teeth and told the nurse she could handle it.   
  
She'd had her time to rest. Now it was time to wake up and start facing the reality of her altered life, no matter how painful it might be.  
  
She vaguely remembered sending Ann and her mom home the previous night so that they could sleep, so the first thing she did was get her hands on the phone in her room to call Ann and ask for her to bring a bag of clothes and toiletries back with her. Next, she called Ron.  
  
"It's good to hear from you," he said with a voice that sounded rough with emotion, though she knew he'd deny it if she called him on it.  
  
"How are April and Andy?" she asked. "I've been worried about them."  
  
"They're a little rattled, but they're holding up alright."  
  
Leslie nodded in relief. "Good. And . . . how are you?" She bit her bottom lip and held her breath, letting the question hang there through a long silence.  
  
"I'm fine," Ron finally responded. "You're the one I've been worried about."  
  
"Can you come see me?" Leslie swallowed hard.  
"I'll be there as soon as I can. I would've come sooner, but the nurse insisted we'd wear you out."  
  
"Come," said Leslie, her voice shaking. "Tell everyone else to come, too. I want to see everyone I care about. Please."  
  
"Leslie—are you . . .?"  
  
"I'm okay. I'll be okay. I just want to see my friends."  
  
"I'll spread the word. See you soon."  
  
Leslie hung up and sank back into her pillows, aching and exhausted. The next few weeks wouldn't be easy, but at least she had her friends. Who did Ben have? She wasn't even sure if they'd still keep him and Chris together. He could be out there, all alone.  
  
She closed her eyes and tried not to think about it. The pain helped. She needed the pain to distract her.  
  
A nurse arrived with breakfast, and Ann showed up ten minutes later with a smile on her face. "You're eating! That's great!"  
  
"When you're hungry enough,  _anything_  can taste good," said Leslie around a bite of the hospital pancakes. Not as good as Ann's, but for now they would do.  
  
She quickly finished her food. She needed a few minutes of time with Ann to clear the air about things. Leslie pushed aside her tray. "So . . . I guess there are few things we need to talk about."  
  
Ann squeezed her lips together and nodded.  
  
"Where do you want to start?" asked Leslie.  
  
Ann took a deep breath. "Did you know about the witness protection thing when you started dating him? Or was he still lying to you?"  
  
Leslie didn't like the note of suspicion in Ann's voice, but she understood why it was there. "I didn't know about it the first time we slept together, after his mom was hurt. Which was real, by the way. She really was in an accident. He told me the truth the week after he came back, right before we got together for real. I knew exactly what I was getting into."  
  
"Really?" Ann still looked skeptical.  
  
"Really."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Now for the hard part. "I'm sorry I lied to you. I didn't want to, but the more people in on the secret, the more dangerous things could get," said Leslie.  
  
"Clearly," Ann replied softly.  
  
That one stung a little. It certainly wasn't the first time Leslie had wondered if all this was her fault. If she hadn't asked him to stay—if she hadn't pushed him into so much risky behavior—maybe none of this would have happened. "I'm really, really sorry. I owe you about a million apologies. I know I can trust you. I should have told you the truth. And you deserved to know about Chris. I should have said something. I should have brought you into the circle of trust. I—"  
  
"Leslie, no," Ann interrupted. "You didn't—"  
  
At that moment the door burst open and her mother walked in carrying a bouquet of cake pops. "Look who I found on the way up," she said with a smile as Andy, April, Tom, Donna and Ron all bustled in and crowded around Leslie, filling the air with their enthusiastic greetings.  
  
Leslie was so happy to see them all that it was enough to pull her out of the pain of her discussion with Ann. After giving everyone the best one-armed hugs she could muster, she beamed at them while they all listed the ways they'd been stepping up to help out at the office in her absence.  
  
"Thank you guys. This is just wonderful. I love you all so much." Leslie couldn't stop the tears from welling in her eyes. She truly did work with the most wonderful people on earth.  
  
Andy looked at her with eyes that looked just as moist as hers felt. "I thought this whole hitman chase thing was really exciting when we first started. But now I just feel like an idiot. They could have killed some of my best friends—or even my wife—and I was acting like it was Disneyland or something. I'm so sorry Leslie." April leaned against him and took his hand.  
  
Leslie swallowed her tears and reached out to rest her hand on Andy's arm. "No. You have nothing to be sorry for."  
  
Andy shook his head. "I don't know."  
  
"No, Andy. You guys were amazing. Really."  
  
Donna and Ann piped in with words of agreement, but Andy looked unconvinced.  
  
"I was scared," said a voice so soft and timid that it took Leslie a few seconds to realize that it was April. She wouldn't meet Leslie's eyes when she spoke again and she huddled against Andy as if she wanted to hide. "I was so scared that they'd do something to Andy, or to me. All I could think was that I was too young for it be over. I have too much left to do. And then when we were safe at the police station I started feeling so guilty for not doing more to stop them, because they were still out there after you and Ben and Chris, and I hadn't done enough."  
  
Leslie nearly lost it when April wiped her eyes. She'd never seen April care this much about anything other than Andy.  
  
"You shouldn't be here," said April, shaking her head. "I'm so mad at Ben for getting you into this. He never should have gotten involved with you. He should have known better."  
  
"He knew the risks," broke in Ron's gruff voice from where he stood near the door. "If he really cared about you he would have stayed away to keep you safe. He was reckless and selfish." He folded his arms across his chest and nodded decisively.  
  
Leslie could hardly breathe.  
  
Marlene, standing beside the bed, shook her head. "I know how crazy you are about him, honey, but I have to agree. What kind of man knowingly puts someone he cares about in danger?"  
  
"Seriously," said Tom, "what was the guy thinking?"  
  
"He should have left before putting you in this position," concluded Ron.  
  
"Stop it! Just—stop it!" Leslie fiercely wiped away the tears rolled down her cheeks. "I don’t want to hear one more word. Okay? He was ready to leave before Thanksgiving. He told me that he would leave. That he thought it would be safest and best if he left. And I told him to stay. Okay? I made that choice. It wasn't him being selfish and reckless—it was me. I knew it wasn't safe, but I didn't care. I wanted him to stay. I thought the risk was worth it. Because I love him." Her voice shook as she admitted it out loud for the first time. "I  _love_  him. I won't stand for hearing any of you blaming any of this on him ever again. Got it?"  
  
Everyone shuffled their feet and nodded.  
  
"I don't get why everyone is so mad at Ben," said Andy, still squeezing April's hand. "I mean, April told me all about the trial thing he and Chris are a part of, and they're like, heroes. They're trying to get justice for the families of people who died of cancer. That's pretty awesome. And if I was a hero on the run and the girl I loved asked me to stay a little longer, I'd probably do it." He shrugged. "I mean, heroes deserve the chance to be happy, too, don't they? Otherwise they'd forget why they were trying to be heroes in the first place."  
  
Leslie's shoulders shook with emotion as she quietly cried, and she didn't even care how much it made her ribs hurt. "That was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," she managed to say after a moment. "Thank you."  
  
"Andy's right," said Ann as she patted Leslie's leg reassuringly. "Ben and Chris are heroes."  
  
"Heroes can still be reckless and foolish," grumbled Ron, scowling at Ann.  
  
Ann scowled right back. "Yes, they can. And maybe Ben and Chris  _were_  a little reckless and foolish. And it was hard finding out that they'd been lying to us this whole time, but they were hiding the truth for a good reason. And even though it drew more public attention to them, they went out of their way to help us all, and to help the community, and to be good friends to all of us. They didn't have to do any of that, but they did. Because they're good men. That's who they are, and that's why they gave up their whole lives for this trial. So what if they made a few mistakes? They're still good people. We shouldn't be mad at Ben. We should be mad at George Everson and his hitmen. They're the ones responsible for this."  
  
Ron nodded his assent, and several of Leslie's other friends added their words of agreement.   
  
Leslie beamed through her tears. Ann always knew just what to say. Now that Ann understood how Leslie felt, everything else would work out. Somehow.  
  
After a moment, Ann managed to turn the conversation back around to more ways for everyone to help out while Leslie recovered. Soon they said their good-byes. On her way out, Donna paused, "Jerry didn't come because he was afraid you wouldn't want him on account of—well—you know."  
  
Leslie knit her brows. "No, I don't know."  
  
Donna's lips froze in a startle "O," and Ron was the one to break the silence.  
  
"Jerry was the one who told the hitmen we were at Slippery Elm cabin. Apparently, they convinced him that they were old friends of Ben." Ron scowled.  
  
"Oh. My." Leslie's mind spun. She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry.  
  
"He feels terrible," said Donna. "Which he should. But, uh, he wanted me to tell you how sorry he is. He feels responsible for everything. Which he kind of is, but it was just Jerry being Jerry. He didn't mean for anything bad to happen."  
  
Leslie swallowed and nodded. "God. Yes. He didn't. But—god. I don't even know what to say."  
  
Donna bobbed her head. "Yeah. None of us know what to say, either."  
  
"Don't be too hard on him," said Leslie. "It's not his fault. Not really. He was just the final link in a long chain of questionable choices." She sighed. Holding a grudge against Jerry for being stupid would be just as pointless as holding a grudge against a dog for eating out of the trash. They just couldn't help themselves. "Tell him I forgive him."  
  
Donna wore a tight smile. "I'll tell him."  
  
Soon only Ron, Ann and Marlene were left.  
  
Leslie was exhausted from the morning of hard conversations, but there were a few more details that she needed cleared up before she would let herself sleep again. "Ron—so. I guess the marshals swept Ben and Chris away as soon as they got to them, right?"  
  
"Essentially. Yes."  
  
Well, it was what she'd been assuming, anyway. No need for more details that Ron seemed uninterested in sharing. "I don't suppose you have any idea where they are, or what happened to them?"  
  
"No. I do know that Agent Burdette is interested in debriefing you once you're feeling a little better. She took my criticisms well and handled my debriefing efficiently. I'm sure she'll do the same with you. She seems a good sort of law officer. One I can respect."  
  
Huh. That was a little more detail on the marshal than Leslie expected. She must have made a really good impression on Ron. Leslie nodded and then launched into her second, more difficult question. "What happened to the guy? The one who. . . you know. The guy."  
  
Ron stared at her blankly for a moment before his eyes brightened. "The one who shot you?"  
  
Leslie coughed a little and nodded. "Yeah. Him. What happened to him?"   
  
"Ben took him down with two shots to center mass, and I ensured he'd be unable to return fire by knocking him unconscious with a few blows to the cranium."  
  
"Oh." Leslie's eyes went wide. "My god. Ben shot him? Is he—dead?"  
  
Ron sighed. "From what I understand, he's in a coma, but not expected to recover."  
  
"Oh my god." Leslie's heart ached. She'd done this. She'd put Ron and Ben in the position to have no choice but to use deadly force. Ron could probably deal with it, but Ben . . . even when things were at their best, he'd still had moments where he'd freeze up, and she'd see the panic and trauma in his eyes, blocking out the rest of the man she loved. But now—after the chase, and the fight, and seeing her hurt, and then  _this_. She closed her eyes. Though she was the one who got shot, she felt certain that Ben would take far longer to heal.  
  
 _If only I could have gone with him. At least he wouldn't have to be alone._  She shook her head. No. That had never been an option. Not really.  
  
She tried to steady her nerves and looked back up at Ron. "Are you handling it okay?"  
  
"Yes." Ron gave a short nod. "It doesn't bother me. He was human scum, and I'd do the same thing a dozen times over if it meant protecting you."  
  
Leslie's throat closed up and she shook her head. "Did everyone make a pact to get me to cry as much as possible today? Because you're doing a really good job of it."  
  
A little while later, after Ron had left and her mom had stepped out to make some phone calls, Leslie turned to Ann to ask the final question that was troubling her. "How are you really feeling about the whole Chris thing? Really?"  
  
Ann sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I have to admit that this whole thing has reopened some old wounds. Over the holidays, Chris and I had some really good talks and came to a new understanding. I think we were starting to be friends. But knowing what I know now I'm angry all over again for the way he handled our relationship. He never should have tried for a real rebound relationship. If he was that desperate for company he should have settled for a few one-night stands. There's no shortage of women in town that would have been happy to oblige."  
  
Leslie nodded, her lips tight.  
  
"But even though I'm mad," said Ann, "knowing the truth answers a lot of questions. I feel like I understand him a lot better now than I ever did when we were together. And I meant what I said. I really do think that he and Ben are good men. Heroes, even. But they have made some mistakes along the way, and our relationship was one of Chris's mistakes. That hurts."  
  
"I'm so sorry," said Leslie.  
  
Ann shook her head and smiled. "This is the last thing you should be worried about right now. I'll deal with it. I'll be fine. I promise."  
  
"I need someone else to worry about. I hate having to think about myself all the time."  
  
"I know." Ann took Leslie's hand again. "That's why we all love you so much."  
  
Leslie sighed and smiled. "You still think I was stupid for asking Ben to stay, don't you?"  
  
Ann shrugged and smiled. "A little. I mean—look where you are! But if I was in your position and had someone that I cared about as much as you and Ben obviously care about each other, I probably would have been a little stupid, too."  
  
"Thank you for everything." Leslie squeezed her friend's hand. She didn't know what she'd have done without Ann.  
  
"Hey, that's what best friends are for, right?"  
  
Truer words had never been spoken.  
  
A short while later, after everyone left to let Leslie take a nap, her thoughts of Ben, far away and in pain, kept her awake.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Late in the afternoon of her last day in the hospital, the visitor Leslie has been both anticipating and dreading finally arrived. Agent Burdette turned out to be a slender brunette who looked a few years older than Leslie.  
  
She knocked politely before stepping into Leslie's room, and Leslie immediately knew who she was. There was no mistaking her for anyone else.   
  
Leslie sat up in her hospital bed, wishing she'd put on some of the clothes Ann brought her instead of staying in her hospital gown, and steeled herself. In the days since her injury she hadn't talked about the events leading up to it with anyone. But there was no avoiding it, now.  
  
Tonya had a firm but soothing voice that helped put Leslie at ease, and she started off with a few questions about Leslie's health and her plans for rehab before asking, "So, I know this is difficult, but I need to get your version of what happened on Wednesday. Could you tell me exactly how you first became aware of a threat to the safety of your friends, Ben and Chris?"  
  
Telling the story was easier than Leslie had expected. She followed Tonya's lead and tried to stay as calm and clinical about it as possible, avoiding all the messy emotional overtones that had filled that horrible afternoon. Tonya occasionally asked a few questions to give the conversation more direction and structure, but mostly she listened.  
  
By the time she finished the story with her arrival at the hospital, Leslie actually felt strangely relieved to have the whole ordeal out there and off her chest. Maybe it would stop haunting her dreams, now that it was on a tape recording as part of an official report. Making things official had always been comforting to Leslie.  
  
"Thank you for being so clear and candid," said Tonya. "I do have a few more questions. First, when did you and my witness become romantically involved?"  
  
Leslie raised her eyebrows. "What do you need to know that for?"  
  
"Mostly for the sake of improving my performance as an agent in future assignments," replied Tonya. "While most witnesses who have been permanently relocated eventually start new lives, including romantic involvements, we discourage witnesses in short-term relocations from engaging in those types of relationships. We need to know what we can do to better recognize the warning signs that our witnesses are engaging in risky behavior that might require our intervention."  
  
"So, from your professional perspective, that's what I am? That's what our relationship was? Risky behavior that you want to discourage?" Leslie frowned. She'd been blaming herself enough for the past few days. Having someone in an official capacity jump on to start blaming her, too, was a little more than Leslie could take.  
  
"I'm sorry," said Tonya. "But from where I'm standing that's the only way to look at it. My job is to protect my witnesses, and people on short-term relocations getting caught up in serious romances almost always leads to trouble. I don't mean to belittle your feelings—just—if there's any insight you could share that would help me do my job better in the future, I'd appreciate it."  
  
Leslie gritted her teeth before responding. "There's nothing I can say to help you. Were we a little stupid at times? Probably. But I can't see our relationship as a mistake. You can't help who you fall in love with, or when, no matter how bad the timing might be. People like Ben and Chris are heroes. They're sacrificing their lives for the cause of justice. Don't they deserve a little happiness in return?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can say to help you."  
  
Tonya's lips were a tight line as she nodded. "Fine. I understand why you feel that way. But you need to understand that every witness costs the government tens of thousands of dollars, and events like what happened to you cost even more. It's our job to make sure things like this don't happen again. I know you might not feel like sharing today, but in a few weeks, when you're ready, I really need you to write up a history of your relationship along with any potentially risky behaviors that you witnessed Ben or Chris engaging in, and email it to me. This information is important. It can help us save both money and lives. Do you understand?"  
  
Leslie sucked on her bottom lip and nodded. "I do. I'll—try."  
  
Tonya nodded. "Good. Thank you for your help, Ms. Knope. And I'm sorry we're ending on a sour note. I like you. And I think that what you did this week was very brave." She stood up. "For the record, I agree with you. Ben and Chris are heroes. My niece has cancer. And if someone like Everson stood in the way of her getting her treatments I'd—well, it wouldn't be pretty."  
  
A knot turned in Leslie's gut. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't . . ." She looked up into the Tonya's eyes. "How is she? Your niece?"  
  
Tonya smiled with a bittersweet look in her eyes. "She's responding well to treatment. We're hopeful. Thank you." She reached inside her pad-folio and pulled out an envelope. "Look—this is a pretty big breach of protocol, but—before we transported Ben out of state, he wrote a letter for you. I had to read it to make sure there was no sensitive information. I'm sorry."  
  
Leslie's hand shook a little as she took the envelope and clutched it to her chest. She looked back up at Tonya. "I'm sorry for being difficult. This means a lot. Thank you."  
  
"It's okay. I understand." Tonya smiled at her and nodded before stepping quietly out of the room.  
  
Leslie took a few deep breaths before opening the envelope and sliding out the single sheet of lined yellow paper, ripped from a legal pad.   
  
"Leslie," it read, "I can't even begin to express the depth of my sorrow and regret over what happened to you. I wanted to stay and talk to you—to apologize in person and to make sure you'll be okay. But they wouldn't let me. That's the story of my life the past year and a half.  
  
"I never should have allowed this to happen. Putting you and Ron and our other friends in danger like this is inexcusable. It was selfish and naïve of me to think that we'd be safe. I wanted to be with you so badly that I was in denial about the seriousness of the risks. And you're the one who paid for my poor judgment.  
  
"I am so, so sorry. What happened to you because of me—what I did to you—is unforgiveable. I won't blame you if you never want to see me again after this. I've done nothing but make your life more complicated and difficult. I should never have let myself get so caught up in life in Pawnee. I never should have let myself get involved with you.  
  
"But that same selfish part of me that made those choices in the first place is still glad that it did. You are truly one of the most amazing, gifted, inspirational people I've ever met. You have an extraordinary future ahead of you.  
  
"But I almost cost you that future. I see now that you're better off without me. I want you to forget me. Don't waste your time waiting for me. Go live your life and follow all those amazing dreams that mean so much to you. I can't be a part of that. It's for the best that I'm gone. With me out of the way, you can finally go be everything that you're meant to be. Everything that you deserve to be. Go live your life, and find your happiness.  
  
"I'll always treasure what we had. Thank you.  
  
"Ben."  
  
Tears flowed down Leslie's cheeks and her shoulders shook with emotion, flaring the pain in her side. It was everything she'd been afraid of. He blamed himself for everything. He took responsibility for everything. How would he ever bounce back from this?  
  
He needed to know that she didn't blame him. He needed to know how much she still loved him. But she had no way to tell him.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie thought she was prepared for the media onslaught when she left the hospital. In the local news they'd been lionizing Ben and Chris as Robin Hood style heroes fighting the rich to help the poor, and she and Ron were being portrayed as some kind of action heroes coming to their rescue. She'd found it amusing at first, as long as the media was barred from her hospital room. But when Ann rolled her wheelchair out the hospital doors only to find a crowd of flashing cameras and waving microphones waiting for them, she felt like she was drowning.  
  
She managed to stammer out a few short statements about serving her country and helping her friends with a proud heart before Ann and her mother cleared a path to the waiting car and got her inside.  
  
Tonya had left instructions not to give any specific comments regarding Ben and Chris's involvement in the case, but that didn't stop the media from making dozens of interview requests and trying to ambush her every time she left her house for the next week.  
  
Leslie had no desire whatsoever to answer loaded question after loaded question regarding the nature of her romance with Ben. She still cried at least once a day thinking about that letter. Or flipping through the Ben-themed scrapbook she'd started making before Christmas. Or reading the letter again (even though Ann sternly warned her to stop reading it or she'd make herself crazy). The last thing she wanted was to break down on television and start ranting about her boyfriend wasting away from PTSD, with no one there to help him.  
  
Ron had escaped the media by pleading out on account of being too busy. The mayor had roped him into being one prong of the three-department-head team that was filling in for Paul for the rest of his recovery from surgery, now that Ben and Chris were gone.  
  
Leslie finally agreed to two interviews: one with Perd, and one with Shauna Malwae-Tweep, on the condition that all questions were pre-approved. Joan Callamezzo kept hassling her, but there was no way Leslie would trust Joan to stick to the script. Leslie managed to hold herself together during the interviews, and actually came across as confident and strong, in spite of still feeling like a mess on the inside.  
  
After the interviews the media requests began to trail off, and Leslie focused on getting ready to go back to work. Being trapped in her home alone all day with nothing but her thoughts was killing her. If she could get her hands on some new projects to tackle, she'd be okay.   
  
On her first day back to the office, she stepped into the Parks Department to find it festooned with streamers, balloons, and flower arrangements alongside a J.J.'s-catered breakfast buffet and huge "Welcome Back Leslie!" banner.  
  
She broke down in tears. Again. But once she'd calmed down, she enjoyed two huge helpings of waffles.  
  
Being back at work certainly helped. But now every day was marred by the small ache in her side, and the even bigger ache in her heart.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Though it was past ten in the morning when Chris got back to the apartment from his jog and errands, it looked as if Ben was still in bed. Chris sighed, though he'd expected as much.  
  
It had been pretty much the same for the nearly four weeks that they'd been in Tucson, Arizona. Neither of them had jobs—their cover was as out-of-work cousins, though Chris had rarely needed to use it. He'd only had a few brief conversations with the neighbors, and his chats with patrons or employees of local establishments were generally brief. Chris didn't much care for the isolation—it made him antsy and frustrated. However, it was already February. The trial was coming up quickly. He could last a few more weeks.  
  
Every day he would get up, enjoy a morning run in the pleasantly warm weather, drop in at the natural foods market for a green smoothie and a gluten free muffin, and then run back to the apartment to find Ben still in bed.  
  
Ben spent approximately half of every twenty-four hour cycle in bed, and much of the other half in long baths or lying on the couch staring at the cracks in the ceiling of their low-rent apartment. He'd given up on shaving, only ate when Chris prodded him, and almost never left the apartment. Chris had literally never seen anyone in such a deep depression. He tried not to spend too many hours away from the apartment at a time, because he genuinely feared that he'd return to find that Ben had done serious harm to himself.  
  
When Chris voiced his fears to their new pair of federal marshals two weeks earlier, they'd turned up the next day with a bottle of Zoloft in hand and instructions for Chris to make sure Ben took them. Chris had done his duty, but Ben showed little improvement, so far.  
  
Chris understood his friend's pain. But they had a difficult task coming up soon. Their testimony at the trial had the potential to change their lives for the better and end this exile from society. Ben needed to pull himself together.  
  
Chris pulled a packet of papers out of his backpack. He'd broken some of the rules of their relocation today, but it was for a worthy cause.  
  
He knocked on Ben's bedroom door, and then let himself in.  
  
As he'd expected, Ben was still sprawled listlessly on his bed, staring at the shadows on his wall.  
  
Without a word, Chris strode over to the window and opened Ben's blinds, letting in the bright sunlight.  
  
Ben blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Time for breakfast?" he mumbled.  
  
"Soon. I took a little extra time on my run this morning to stop by the library and get on the internet."  
  
Ben frowned. "We're not supposed to be online. At all."  
  
Chris nodded. "I know. But there were some things I needed to look up. And I'm glad I did. These are for you." He held out the stack of papers he'd printed out for fifteen cents apiece at the library. A worthy price to pay for what he hoped would be the beginning of his friend's recovery.  
  
Ben furrowed his brow as he quickly flipped through the stack of papers. "These are news articles from Pawnee."  
  
"Yes. They are. Go ahead and read them while I go make you some eggs."  
  
If this didn't start to help, Chris had no idea what to try next.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Ben leaned against his headboard and started reading through the stack of articles for a third time.  
  
The fogginess that had taken up what he thought was permanent residence in his head was beginning to clear, but he still didn't feel sharp enough to know exactly what he made of the new information being presented to him.  
  
He was ready to outright dismiss the articles touting him as some sort of noble hero. That was obviously media-spin bullshit. If they knew the truth . . . He shook his head. No one really knew the truth of his selfishness. No one but him.  
  
He flipped back to the Pawnee Journal interview with Leslie. There was a picture of her, smiling. Whole. Almost like she'd never been hurt at all.  
  
 _But I know better._  Ben traced the outline of her face with his fingertip.  _I saw her fall. I saw a pool of her blood burning its way through the snow._  He still saw it almost every time he closed his eyes. He'd lie awake half of every night willing his eyes to stay open so he didn't have to face the sight of Leslie's life spilling out of her again and again and again.  
  
Seeing her like this—reading her words, as positive and optimistic as ever—seemed more like a dream than reality. But here it was. In his hands.  
  
She was okay. She was healing. She was going to be fine.  
  
He let his eyes follow the words of the article until he found the paragraph that had stopped him in his tracks the first time he read it.  
  
"When asked about her personal relationship with Ben Adams—rumored to be a passionate romance—Knope didn't go into detail, but her answer was telling. 'Ben and I shared a very special, very meaningful friendship. I care about him very much, and when he's completed his service for the federal justice system, I very much hope that we can see each other again. It would mean a lot to me to have him in my life again.'"  
  
Ben swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to believe that she'd really want to see him again after everything he put her through.  
  
He'd said good-bye. He'd told her to move on. She had to see how much better off she was without him, right?   
  
It didn't make any sense.  
  
 _I can't let myself believe that there's still hope for us. I can't._  
  
There was a short knock on his doorframe, and Ben looked up to see Chris standing there with a plate of eggs and toast. "How are you doing?" He looked apprehensive.  
  
Ben cleared his throat and nodded. "I'm good. It's good. I'm good. I. . . I am good." He set the stack of papers down on the bed as Chris approached.  
  
"So you're not too rattled by all this?" Chris gestured at the papers.  
  
"No. No." Ben shook his head, searching for some comment that he was actually willing to share with Chris. "Um—so—he died, I guess."  
  
Chris sat on the edge of the bed, still holding the plate. "The man you shot. Yes. Are you . . . okay?"  
  
Ben was the farthest thing from  _okay_  about nearly all of this mess. Except for this. Out of the whole mess, this was the one thing that he felt good about. "I am. This says that the two guys are probably the same ones who killed the prosecutor at the courthouse, and the ones who sabotaged my mom's car. I'm glad he's dead. I'm glad that I was the one who killed him. Does that make me a bad person?"  
  
Chris shook his head. "No. I think it just makes you human."  
  
Ben nodded, and looked at the plate. "I think maybe I feel like eating in the kitchen today."  
  
Chris smiled. "Good. That's good."  
  
Maybe it was. Maybe it was time to let things be good, again.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
"I don't know how to do this," said Leslie, squirming in the cozy armchair that sat in the office of Dr. Richard Nygard, Pawnee's preeminent therapist.  
  
He nodded. A fuzzy stripe of salt and pepper hair circled the back of his head below his bald pate, and he looked at her over the top of the glasses perched on the end of his nose. "This is one of those things that you have to learn by doing."  
  
Leslie tapped her fingers on her thighs. "I'm not even sure why I'm here. My friend Ann recommended you, and then when I mentioned it to my mom she helped Ann gang up on me to make an appointment."  
  
"I understand their concern. You've been through some traumatic experiences, and the loss of someone very important to you. Those sorts of transitions can be difficult for anyone, and sometimes it helps to have a safe place to talk, without fear of judgment. Especially when you're in the public eye."  
  
Leslie hadn't told him any that. She gave him an arch look. "I take it you follow the local news?"  
  
He nodded. "I do."  
  
She sighed. "So, where do I start? With the shooting? Or the lying to all my friends for months? Or the not being able to contact my boyfriend who probably really needs me right now?"  
  
"The only place you need to start is with what you feel like talking about today. So what do you feel like talking about?"  
  
Leslie toyed with the buttons on her blouse. She'd been watching her words for so many months now that it had become second nature, even with Ann. This was something completely different.   
  
She bit lightly on her bottom lip as the silence stretched on longer. She didn't like long silences. "I sleep with a gun in my nightstand drawer," she said suddenly, not even realizing that was on her list of things to talk about.  
  
Dr. Nygard nodded. "Does that help?"  
  
"No. I still have bad dreams. And I still get jumpy every time I hear noises." She shook her head. "The police drive by five times a day—including over night. But it's hard feeling safe, any more. They went after Ben's mom to get to him. They could come after me, too. I mean, the guys that were doing it before won't. One of them is dead, and the other is in jail. But there could be others. You never know."  
  
"Um-hmm." He nodded.  
  
Wasn't he supposed to be helpful? Why didn't he say anything?  
  
"You'd think with all that, I'd have trouble sleeping, but I don't. I'm exhausted at the end of every day. And I get sleepy after lunch. That never used to happen. I've been sleeping a lot longer than I used to. Almost six hours a night."  
  
Dr. Nygard raised an eyebrow. "That's  _long_  for you?"  
  
"Well, I usually only sleep four or four and a half hours. So, yes. My doctor said that fatigue is normal for people recovering from my injuries, but I still don't like it. I have bad dreams. And I wake up worried about what might have happened overnight."  
  
"I see."  
  
It was Leslie's turn to raise her eyebrows. "So, you're not going to say anything? Or do anything?"  
  
"Not yet." He tented his fingers. "It's still your time to talk."  
  
"Okay."  
  
After forty more minutes of prolonged silences and sporadic outbursts of things she hadn't told anyone else, Leslie's time was up. She shook Dr. Nygard's hand and left not knowing whether she felt any better or not. But she still scheduled an appointment for next week.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Ben started going for walks in the evening. Aimless, rambling walks around his neighborhood. He'd started feeling restless, after so many weeks shut up inside.  
  
The weather in Tucson in February was pretty amazing, but he'd been warned about the summers. He was pretty glad he'd be gone by then.  
  
The first time he went out, he stopped in at a nearby convenience store and was looking at snacks when he noticed two rough-looking college age boys whispering in low tones by the refrigerated cases, looking shifty. It was enough to trigger a panic attack. Ben managed to escape to the restroom, where it took him more than twenty minutes of deep breathing to calm himself back down so he could walk home. He noticed the cashier giving him a dirty look on his way out. When he made it back to the apartment he forced a smile for Chris's sake.  
  
He didn't intend to go out the next night, but after an early dinner his legs started feeling restless again. This time he forced himself to keep to a short route, and circled the two block radius around his apartment building three times before calling it a night.  
  
On his third excursion he stepped into a bookstore, and a teenage boy bumped into him passing the news stand. Ben felt the panic start to rise again and headed for the bathroom. This time he managed to pull himself together after just a few minutes. Maybe those pills Chris kept giving him were finally starting to work.  
  
After returning from his fourth successful outing, to be once again greeted by his grinning roommate, Ben decided it was time to swallow his pride.  
  
"Hey, Chris," he said, struggling for the right words to convey the full depth of his feelings, "I need to—to say thank you. For everything, lately. I just—thanks for being here for me. Really."  
  
Chris reached out and placed a hand on Ben's shoulder. "Anything for a friend."  
  
Ben's throat got tight and he nodded. It was more than that, and Chris knew it. But for now, this thanks would have to be enough. He met Chris's eyes. "How did you do it? How did you keep going like this, and pull yourself together, after all that's happened?"  
  
Chris stared thoughtfully into space for a moment before answering. "I found something inside myself in those woods," he said. "I strength and a courage that I'd never known was there. I've been letting that new understanding of myself carry me through. Besides—you needed me."  
  
"I did." Ben could barely speak through the emotional clogging his throat. "I do. Thank you."  
  
Chris pulled Ben into a warm hug, and, for the first time, Ben wasn't the first one to pull away.  
  
The next morning, Ben stood at the stove making his own eggs for breakfast when Chris returned home from his run with another print-out of a Pawnee article. Ben resisted his first impulse to chide Chris for risking another jaunt onto the internet (he had no intention of making the same mistakes here as he did in Pawnee), but the sight of Leslie's name in the headline was too much for him. He took the paper and started reading, his eyes growing wider by the second.  
  
"She's getting her park," he whispered. The Swanson-Knope Hero Park (sponsored by Sweetums) was being built on lot 48, and would feature hero-themed play equipment and a monument to honor everyday heroes like police officers, emergency responders, doctors, and members of the military. Ben felt a tight knot of emotion in his chest.  
  
"I can't imagine any more meaningful way to honor Leslie for her actions," said Chris.  
  
Ben nodded, tears clouding his vision. He couldn't hide the emotion in his voice when he spoke. "She deserves this. More than anyone I've ever known."  
  
His whole frame ached with regret and loneliness. He closed his eyes and let himself imagine, just for a moment, what it would be like to stand beside her at the ribbon-cutting ceremony. To share in her joy and excitement. God, she'd be radiant.   
  
But it wasn't meant to be. Life had proven to him again and again that he wasn't destined for happiness. And now, he couldn't stand in way of Leslie's happiness, either. She was better off without him. Better off by far.  
  
"I'm happy for her," he said in a rough voice. "Really happy."  
  
After finishing his breakfast, Ben tucked the new article away in the folder he kept hidden between his mattress and box spring, along with the other articles Chris had printed out. He wouldn't let himself read them again. It was too much, to see the pictures of her face. To be reminded of the life she was building without him. But he still wanted to keep them close. As if a part of her was still with him.  
  
He knew he'd have to let go completely one of these days, but he wasn't ready quite yet.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Shaking Mayor Gunderson's hand at the groundbreaking for a park named in her honor should have been one of the proudest moments of Leslie's life. Instead, it felt bittersweet.  
  
She smiled for the mayor, and smiled and waved for the small crowd, and gave hugs and said thanks. Yet, the whole time, in the back of her mind lingered the feeling that she hadn't really earned this. Her park hadn't come about because she worked hard, raised money, cut through red tape and swayed hearts. Rather, it came because she was shot defending her boyfriend, the voice of public opinion declared her a hero, and Sweetums decided it would be good press to pay for a park honor the new local "heroes." And somehow the town's largest employer had managed to pull the whole thing together in just a few weeks—it seemed patently unfair.  
  
So yes, Leslie had gotten what she wanted. But at what cost?  
  
After the ceremony, as the crowd dispersed, Leslie caught sight of an unexpected face. It was the city manager, Paul.  
  
She walked up to him, smiling. "Hey! It's so good to see you back on your feet. How are you feeling?"  
  
"I've been better." He shrugged. "But it could be worse—I could be dead of a heart attack."  
  
"Good point. So what brings you out to our little ceremony today?" she asked.  
  
"I was curious to see how you were doing. You look good. But I've gone through my own surgery lately, so that gives me a perspective most of these people don't have." Paul gestured around at the crowd. "Is there much pain anymore?"  
  
He was the only person other than Ann who'd ever asked her that. Leslie's eyes drifted downward. "A little. But it's getting better every week. It still hurts when I try to lift heavy things."  
  
"So stop lifting heavy things," said Paul with a smile.  
  
"Exactly. But, uh, I don't use pain meds. And I don't even want them anymore. I can deal with it."  
  
He nodded slowly. "That's good. And what about the other kind of pain?" he asked, tapping his temple. "Do you have someone to talk to?"  
  
Leslie had never known Paul very well, and it left a lump in her throat to hear him talk with som much understanding. "I do. I've seen a therapist a couple of times. It's good, I think."  
  
"Good. Good." Paul nodded again. "I've gotta say—when I first heard the news, I was mad as hell at those boys for lying to me. But the more I thought about it, the more my feelings changed. The way I see it, they were just out trying to make a living like the rest of us when they came across evidence of some pretty scary stuff. And instead of running away like most folks would, they stood up for what was right, regardless of the personal consequences. And when they got sent here, they could have laid low and crunched the numbers and then headed on their way, but instead they made friends, and got involved, and starting really caring about Pawnee." He pursed his lips and sighed. "It's nothing if not remarkable. Truly remarkable."  
  
Leslie felt her face getting warm, and she smiled. "I agree."  
  
"Well," Paul continued, "I'll be coming back to work soon. If your boy, Ben, decides to come back to Pawnee after the trial, let me know. I'll make sure there's a job waiting for him when he gets here."  
  
Leslie stammered out her thanks, and watched in awe as Paul walked away. He was the first person since to Andy to see things exactly how she did. It felt good to know that she had more allies out there than she'd realized.  
  
If only there was a way to let Ben know how many people felt this way about him. To let him know just how amazing he truly was. A way to help him  _right now,_  instead of later.  
  
Her brain started spinning with ideas.  
  
By the time she finished her post-ceremony brunch with Ann, she had a plan.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Doreen Adams sat in her kitchen, finishing lunch, when her phone rang. The ID said it was her best friend, Autumn, so she answered (she never answered without recognizing the ID, these days).  
  
"Dorrie—I'm on my way over. I have someone with me who wanted to meet you, but she noticed the police surveillance car outside your house and worried that she wouldn't be welcome, since she's a stranger."  
  
"If she's a stranger, what makes you think I'll want to meet her?"  
  
"Because she's the one who sent you that packet of papers from Ben. She's the woman from Indiana."  
  
Doreen sucked in a quick breath. Getting that packet of papers—seeing just how much Ben was thinking of her—had meant the world. "I'll meet you at the door."  
  
She hung up and grabbed her crutches. She hated that she still had to walk with the damn things, but at least it was a step up from the wheelchair.  
  
She stood at the window by her front door and watched as Autumn and a petite blonde woman made their way up her front walk. Doreen pulled the door open when they arrived, and Autumn ushered the blonde inside.  
  
"I'm sorry to surprise you like this," said the strange woman. "I just—I really wanted to come meet you. My name is Leslie. Leslie Knope, from Pawnee, Indiana."  
  
Doreen nodded, struggling to find the right words for her unexpected visitor. "I—I read about you on the news. I know what you did for my son." Tears started welling in her eyes. "I don't know how to thank you . . ."  
  
Leslie shook her head. "I didn't come here for thanks. I came here because I want to be a part of your son's life, but I can't. So I thought I'd see if maybe I could be a part of yours, instead."  
  
Doreen took a deep breath and asked the question that had been on her mind ever since she saw the news about Ben's time in Indiana. "Leslie—are you in love with my son?"  
  
"Yes. I am." Leslie's eyes sparkled with emotion.  
  
"Come sit down. I think that you and I have a lot to talk about."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
George Everson twitched his ankle. He still hadn't gotten used to the weight of the tracking device they'd fastened around his ankle as a condition of his bail after being charged with murder and attempted murder, following the Indiana incident. They'd managed to turn his own home into a prison.  
  
The trial was less than a week away, and three of his lawyers sat in front of him in his home office. As usual, he didn't like what they had to say.  
  
"They're folding like a house of cards," said one of them. "All of our defense witnesses are turning against you. Cutting deals to save their own skins. After these new charges, we've got almost no one left."  
  
"We still have Yeager," said Everson.  
  
Another of the lawyers coughed uncomfortably, and the first spoke again. "Actually, Yeager was taken into police custody last night. That's why we're here. We have it on good authority that even as we speak, he's cutting a deal. Working out a lenient plea in exchange for implicating you in the murder-for-hire plot. It's not good. If they bring you to trial on the murder-for-hire charges, you could face the death penalty."  
  
Everson's eyes went a little wider. Yeager had turned against him? Even Yeager? Was there no such thing as loyalty left on earth anymore?  
  
"Here's what we propose," said another lawyer, "if you plead guilty to all the fraud charges, right now, and promise to testify that Yeager was actually the mastermind behind the murder-for-hire plot, then the government is willing to grant you immunity from all the murder charges. You'll only serve seven to ten years in a minimum security facility. It'll be easy time."  
  
"No time is easy time for a man of seventy-two," said Everson, turning over their offer in his head. God, damn it.   
  
The first lawyer shook his head. "This is the best offer you're going to get."  
  
"They'll seize my company."  
  
"They'll seize your company whether you plead guilty or not," said the second lawyer, grimly.  
  
Everson shook his head. "I need a few hours to think about it. Come back at three. I'll have your answer then." He dismissed the lawyers, and they left with sour looks on their faces.  
  
A man was no man without his business. And a fink was no man at all. Everson lived by certain principles, and he wasn't going to turn his back on them. Not now. Not ever.  
  
He sat at his desk and composed short letters to his three daughters, even to the one who turned her back on him years ago. Then he opened his desk drawer and stood up.  
  
A man lived by a code, and a man died by a code. Everson intended to die on his feet.  
  
He reached into his drawer and pulled out the revolver that lay inside.  
  
Several rooms away, Everson's valet was organizing the humidor when he heard the shot ring out. By the time he made it to the office, it was far too late.  
  
  
TBC


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter originally published on LiveJournal in August 2013

As the afternoon shadows lengthened in the courtyard outside her window, Leslie sat listlessly at her desk, staring at the same memo she'd been writing for the past half hour. Why wouldn't the words come?  
  
With less than a week before the beginning of the Everson trial, she'd had more trouble than ever before focusing on her work. She shook her head. Her daydreaming would do nothing to move the trial along faster. She needed to pull herself together.  
  
She managed to rattle out the rest of the memo in less than five minutes, and was about to move onto the next item on her agenda for the day when April burst into her office.  
  
"Have you seen the news?" April's eyes were wide.  
  
"What news?" Leslie's heart froze.  
  
Her fear must have been evident on her face because April shook her head. "No—it's good. At least, I think it's good. I have it pulled up on my computer. Come on."  
  
Leslie jumped to her feet and followed. April's computer was open to a screen of a streaming newscast. The words at the bottom of the screen jumped out at her, and she had to grip the edge of April's desk to steady herself.  
  
"George Everson Suicide."  
  
She listened as the newscaster recapped the situation—George Everson dead of an apparent suicide mere days before the start of his trial.  
  
"Leslie, are you all right?" said Ron.  
  
She looked up to find that the entire department had gathered around her while she was riveted to the screen. "I—yeah. I'm fine. Just—shocked."  
  
"Does this mean Ben can come home, now?" Andy asked, a note of disbelieving hope in his voice.  
  
"I don't know." Leslie stood up straight and blinked at the screen a few times, her mind racing. "I don't know. I—I need to go make some phone calls. Excuse me."  
  
Her hand started to shake as she pulled up Doreen in her contacts and hit the call button.  
  
"Leslie!" Doreen answered almost immediately. "Can you believe it? It feels like a dream. The darn reporters keep repeating themselves over and over and I feel like it has to be a dream."  
  
Leslie smiled. "No. It's real."  
  
"Thank god. I didn't use to be one who would ever rejoice in another human beings death, but god help me, I'm glad. I'm so, so glad."  
  
"Me too," said Leslie softly. "It's still sinking in, but I'm glad, too." She cleared her throat. "So—what does this mean? What's going to happen next?"  
  
"I don't know," replied Doreen. "I've been on the phone with every agent I know—and the federal prosecutor's office—I even tried the judge. No one has any answers for me. Not yet. They're probably still reeling from this as much as we are."  
  
Leslie took a deep breath and nodded. "Of course. Yeah. How long do you think it'll take us to find out if . . ." She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.  
  
"I don't know when we'll have the official word. But he's coming home. I feel it in my gut. I mean—the threats are all gone, right? The hit men are gone—Everson is gone—there's no more trial. It's all over. He has to come home."  
  
"I hope you're right." Leslie could feel her heart racing. It seemed too good to be true. Maybe Doreen was right—maybe it really was a dream.  
  
 _He can come back to me. We can make things work, this time. Everything will be alright, now. We're safe._  
  
She closed her eyes.  _Safe._  She'd never thought a time would come when the mere prospect of feeling safe in her own home—and her own hometown—would feel like such a precious gift.  
  
"I need to make some more calls," said Doreen. "But I'll let you know as soon as I have news."  
  
"Same here."  
  
Her heart continued to flutter after she hung up. There was no way she'd get any work done today.  
  
Ron stepped up to her door and knocked on the frame. "Any news?"  
  
"Not yet." Leslie shook her head, but smiled. There would be good news, soon. There had to be.  
  
He held up his cell phone. "I just got off a call to Tonya. She doesn't know anything yet, either, but she'll get back to me as soon as she hears anything."  
  
"You called Agent Burdette?" Leslie raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Tonya and I have . . . seen each other, socially, several times."  
  
In spite of all the uncertainty, this gave Leslie something new to smile about. "Oh really? Are you two dating?" Leave it to Ron to get the competent brunette with a gun to fall for him.  
  
He folded his arms and glared. "My personal life is my personal life. I'll let you know if she gets any news." With that he turned and left the office.  
  
Leslie leaned back in her chair and sighed. It looked like the rest of the day would be nothing but waiting—maybe even into tomorrow.   
  
There was only one way to get through it.  
  
She dialed Ann. "Hey—do you want to go out and get drunk tonight? Please?"  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Chris couldn't stop pacing the apartment, clutching his phone. "No one is answering. The agents won't return my calls. This waiting is literally one of the most frustrating experiences of my life."  
  
Ben, looking rather pale, sat slumped on the sofa, staring at the wall with a shell-shocked look in his eyes. He nodded.  
  
Chris paced a few more times, all the possibilities streaming through his mind. The one that kept coming back, calling to him, enticing him, shouting him, was a single, simple thought:  _freedom_.  
  
This had to be it. With Everson gone and his hit squad decimated, it had to be over. They had to be free.   
  
It was a better outcome than Chris had ever allowed himself to imagine, no matter how grimly it had come about.  
  
After a few more minutes of pacing, his phone rang.  
  
He answered immediately. It was one of his current marshals, Wilkes.   
  
"Look, I know you guys must be bouncing off the walls wanting to call your friends and family, but I need you to hold off for a few more days while we work with the prosecutors to figure this situation out. Remember, there are a few co-defendants left out there," said Wilkes.  
  
"None of them were a threat to us," countered Chris.  
  
"Probably not, but we need to do a thorough risk-assessment before we meet with you to discuss options for the future. Don't go anywhere. Don't call anyone. We should have the full assessment complete in two or three days. I know the wait will be hard, but we really need you guys to hang in there—okay?"  
  
 _Hanging in there_  was the last thing Chris wanted to do. He wanted to log onto his old Facebook to proclaim his freedom to the world. He wanted to see his parents, and go home to his condo, and visit all his friends. He wanted to run a marathon, or compete in a triathlon, or at least a 10K.  
  
He squeezed his lips together and finally answered. "I understand. Do you have any idea—any guesses, even—if we'll be able to go home?"  
  
"I can't comment on that, yet, Chris. I don't want to risk creating false hope. You've just got to wait for the assessment."  
  
"Alright. I'll wait. Just—don't take your time. Please."  
  
After hanging up, Chris turned to Ben. "He won't make any statements as to whether we'll be able to go back to our lives—but I have a really good feeling about this. He wants us to wait while they do a risk-assessment. They wouldn't be doing that unless there was a serious possibility of the risk being gone. I think we'll be able to go home."  
  
His heart leaped at the thought. "Can you believe it? It's extraordinary. Amazing. Brilliant. I can't sit still right now—do mind if I go for a run?"  
  
Ben shook his head. "Go ahead. Go."  
  
Chris nodded and headed for the door. He'd have to run twenty miles to work out this nervous energy.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
 _Home._  
  
The word continued to resonate in Ben's mind long after Chris left the apartment. What did  _home_  even mean, anymore?  
  
As much as he wanted— _needed_ —to see his mother and his brother, Partridge would never be home again. And he had zero desire to ever see his condo in Atlanta again. If he never set foot in that city again, he'd be happy.  
  
Yet the place his mind kept drifting back to seemed so far out of reach—an insanely cluttered home; an office full of improbably eccentric co-workers; a cooky town plagued by raccoons; a bright shock of blonde hair splayed out on the pillow next to him.  
  
He swallowed hard.  
  
No. He couldn't go back. They'd never forgive him.  
  
Leslie was the brightest, strongest, most extraordinary person he'd ever met. And he'd left her broken and bleeding.  
  
It didn't matter what she said in newspaper interviews. Things could never be like they were. Not after that.  
  
He'd held on too tight, instead of backing off when he should have. He been too selfish. He'd made one wrong choice too many. And Leslie had paid the price.  
  
He didn't deserve that life.  
  
He stood and slowly circled the apartment, trying to re-center his mind. He needed to let go of fantasies and accept the quiet, solitary future that lay ahead of him. He needed to stop seeing a pool of hot red spreading on a field of white every time he tried to sleep. He needed it to stop hurting so much.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie's agitation grew with every passing day. Three days after the news broke, neither Doreen nor Tonya had any new information. It was maddening.  
  
Her co-workers were beginning to give her a wide berth for fear of having her heap new work assignments on them at an alarming rate. At least the anxiety was helping her overcome her post-injury lethargy—she was right back to four or fewer hours of sleep at night. In just the past two nights she'd managed to clean out and organize her front room and main floor office. If the wait went on much longer, she'd get the whole main floor done.  
  
"Do you think he'll want to move here?" Ann asked over dinner that night. Dear, wonderful Ann had been setting aside lots of extra time to listen to Leslie vent, and Leslie would be forever grateful.  
  
"I—" Leslie hesitated, "I hope so. I want him to. I know he was happy here." But after the way things ended she wasn't so sure how he'd feel about it. He'd already been through so much trauma—that day in the woods had probably affected him in ways that she could only just begin to guess at.  
  
"I just need to talk to him," she said. "I don't know how he's doing. I don't know if he's okay, or if he's been suffering. I'm sure his PTSD has flared back up, and his panic attacks. I have no idea what kind of condition he's in, or how much help he'll need, or—" she dropped her voice a little, "or how much space he might need." She shook her head. "I just need to talk to him."  
  
Ann reached out to squeeze her hand. "You'll be able to. Soon. I'm sure of it."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
"So," said the lawyer with the skinny tie, "all but one of the co-defendants has cut a deal, and the last fellow is on the verge of cutting a deal. Essentially, the federal government no longer requires your testimony for this case."  
  
Ben swallowed hard.  
  
"And that means?" Chris prompted.  
  
"It means," said Wilkes, folding his arms and staring back and forth between Ben and Chris, "that while the threat level against you isn't zero, it's pretty damn close."  
  
Ben sank further into the couch cushions, feeling as if he'd just been punched in the gut. This was more or less what they'd been expecting, but still, he hadn't really allowed himself to believe it. "So what now?" he said in a strained voice.  
  
"Now you have a few options," said Wilkes. "Since we can't absolutely rule out continued threat to your lives, as a token of gratitude for your service we are prepared to offer you both one final, permanent relocation. A final clean slate. A fresh start. On the other hand, since the threat is extremely low, you are well within your rights to return to previous lives, and once again we will assist you with the paperwork and help you get a start back in your old identities. The choice is yours."  
  
"I want to go home," said Chris. "I want my life back. I'm ready to go back. As soon as possible."  
  
Wilkes nodded. "We can start the paperwork today. Your father has been paying your mortgage and taking care of your property, so you still have a condo and a vehicle waiting for you, as well as the bank accounts and investment accounts that you had before entering protective custody. We can make sure that everything is restored to you as soon as humanly possible."  
  
Chris beamed, an almost angelic look of joy on his face. "This is literally the happiest I've been in two years. Thank you, thank you, thank you."  
  
"It's our pleasure, Mr. Robinson." Wilkes turned to Ben. "And you, Mr. Adams? What do you want to do?"  
  
That was the question, wasn't it?  
  
Ben could see the appeal of one final relocation. Disappearing into the thick of humanity with no obligations weighing on his conscience. But the peace and contentment of it wouldn't last long. Not knowing that his mother still needed help, and his sister-in-law would be delivering soon, and Leslie . . . He closed his eyes. Leslie wasn't supposed to be part of the equation anymore. He needed to remember that. But his family still needed him.  
  
After taking a deep breath, he said, "I want to go back to being Ben Adams."  
  
Wilkes nodded. "Alright. We can start the paperwork right away. You still have all your old accounts, but the lease on your condo lapsed. Your mother saw to it that all your things were put into storage. We can help you find a new place in Atlanta—"  
  
"No," said Ben emphatically. "I'm not going back to Atlanta."  
  
"So where do you want to go, Mr. Adams?"  
  
 _First in friendship, fourth in obesity._  The words whispered in his mind against his will.  
  
He shook his head. "To my mother's house. For the time being, I'll go stay with my mother, in Minnesota."  
  
"Okay," replied Wilkes. "Let's make this happen."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
By the fifth morning since getting the news of Everson's suicide, Leslie felt ready to explode. Why hadn't they heard anything yet? It was all over the news that Everson's co-conspirators had all taken plea deals. So why were Ben and Chris still hidden away? The threat was gone! Why, why, why, why?  
  
She called Doreen just after seven, knowing that she'd be getting ready to go to work. She'd been back on the job for two weeks already.  
  
"Hi—I—"  
  
"Leslie! It's so wonderful! We're leaving for Minneapolis in an hour to pick him up. I thought that he'd want to go see you, first, but you know Ben. He needs to do his duty to his mom first. Did you two work out any plans, yet?"  
  
Leslie's mouth hung open for a moment as she tried to parse Doreen's words. "Wait—you're picking up Ben  _this morning_?" Her heart raced.  
  
"Yes! Don and Lisa made it home yesterday afternoon, and Don is driving me to Minneapolis this morning to get him. Didn't Ben tell you this last night?"  
  
"No . . . " Leslie sank onto her kitchen chair, a rock settling in her gut. "He—we—I—we haven't talked, yet."  
  
"Oh," Doreen sounded taken aback. "I just assumed he call you after he got off the phone with me."  
  
"No." Leslie cleared her throat. "He didn't. I didn't even know it was over. I thought he was still in protective custody."  
  
There was a pause. Leslie couldn't imagine what she might be thinking.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Leslie," Doreen said. "I really thought he'd call you. He didn't say anything—I just assumed—"  
  
"It's okay," Leslie cut her off. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure he had his reasons."  
  
"Maybe he wanted to surprise you by calling from home," said Doreen brightly.  
  
"Maybe." Leslie couldn't bring herself to share Doreen's optimism. Something was wrong.  
  
"I'll talk to him when we see him. I'll tell him to call you."  
  
"No. No, you don't need to do that. Really. He'll call when he's ready." Leslie closed her eyes. He just needed some time to get used to being free and safe again. He'd come around. Eventually. "Let him have his space. I don't want to hassle him before he's ready."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
She wished Doreen well on her trip and tried to share in some of her happiness, but when she hung up she felt drained and empty. Ben wasn't okay. She knew it in her heart. But she had no idea what she could do to help. Right now she could only hope that time with Doreen and Don would break him out of whatever difficult condition he'd fallen into.  
  
In the meantime she'd have to go to work and do her best to distract herself from her worry. But she'd keep her phone right by her all day—just in case.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Ben had his first panic attack in the Tucson airport, and his second in Minneapolis-St. Paul. Perfect bookends to his flight home. The second came not long after meeting his brother and mom in the baggage claim area. He tried to pass it off as nausea from air-sickness, but he was pretty sure they weren't fooled.  
  
Seeing his mom and Don again was wonderful. It felt like a miracle. But seeing his mom hobble on her crutches—hearing Don joke about the hassles of finding a new obstetrician in Iowa, where they were sent while the threat was high—did nothing but remind Ben of the hell he brought into their lives.  
  
He tried to lead them onto topics that wouldn't trigger his anxieties. He wanted to hear about Autumn and her family. About his mom's new classes. About Lisa's pregnancy—the list of baby names they'd chosen. He wanted to hear about the old restaurants in Partridge that had closed, and the new ones that had opened. About anything other than the thousands of little reminders of the ways his choices had sowed chaos and pain in their lives, and in the lives of so many others.  
  
Seeing his mom's house again lifted his spirits like nothing else. So little had changed. She had the same trees and bushes, the same newspaper sitting in her driveway, waiting to be picked up and read, even the same cars and trucks parked in front of neighbors' houses. Inside was almost unchanged, as well. Some of the furniture was spaced farther apart, probably to accommodate her crutches, but it was the same sofas and chairs he'd sat on for years.  
  
Finding this place so unchanged felt like a sliding into a warm bath on a cold day.  
  
It wasn't until almost an hour after arriving that he noticed the new picture hanging on the family picture wall in the hall. It stopped him dead in his tracks. He stood, staring in disbelief, unable to make sense of what he was looking at.  
  
He had no idea how long he stood in that hall before his mom called, "Are you alright back here?" and came hobbling into the hall to find him.  
  
"Mom—how . . .?" he pointed at the picture.  
  
"Do you like it?" she said. "Leslie gave me a whole stack, but this one was my favorite."  
  
Hearing his mom say Leslie's name, and seeing that picture hanging on the wall—a snapshot of him and Leslie together on New Year's Eve, dressed up for the party, their arms around each other, smiles on their face—it felt like he'd just fallen down a rabbit hole.  
  
"I don't understand. Leslie—and you—how?" He continued to stare at the picture. God, they looked so happy. But just a week and a half later she lay dying in the snow while he killed a man. Pictures never told the whole story.  
  
"She came to see me just over three weeks ago, and stayed to visit for two days. We've talked on the phone every day since. We've gotten to be good friends. She's a wonderful woman." His mother looked at him with moist eyes.  
  
Ben swallowed hard. Of course Leslie would come here. Of course she would befriend his mom. Why did he expect anything different?  
  
He nodded and opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling to find the right words.  
  
"You haven't talked to her yet, have you?" his mom asked softly.  
  
He shook his head, dropping his eyes from the picture.  
  
"You really should call her," his mom said. "She's worried sick about you. Ben?" She stepped closer and rested a hand on his upper arm. "I took what she told me at face value, but if she misrepresented your relationship to me, I can cut off contact with her today. Is that what you want?"  
  
"No." He almost choked on the word. He couldn't bring himself to meet his mother's eyes. "She didn't misrepresent anything."  
  
"Why haven't you called her? She misses you. She's head over heels in love with you."  
  
"She shouldn't be." The words ripped harshly from his throat. "She's better off without me."  
  
"Ben . . ."  
  
A field of red spreading on white flashed before his eyes. "I'm sorry. I need some—I need some air."  
  
He pushed away from his mom and hurried to the back door. Outside he stumbled into one of the patio chairs and rested his head in his hands as the remembered echo of gunfire filled his mind. His heart raced and his head pounded.   
  
He couldn't do this. He didn't know how to come back.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
"I don't know what to do. He's changed so much—he seems so far away." Doreen's voice shook as she spoke.  
  
Leslie could feel tears rising in her eyes as Doreen continued. "He had a panic attack before we even left the airport. He tried to pass it off as airsickness but after everything you told me I knew what I was looking at. He's lost weight, and he was never a big man. He looks ill. He asked lots of questions on our drive home, but he wouldn’t talk about what he's been through. He didn't even mention Indiana once."  
  
"Oh god," said Leslie, "This is bad. This is very bad."  
  
"I know! You told me how much progress he made during his time in Indiana, but none of it seems to have lasted. Leslie—when he saw the picture of the two of you that I hung up, I tried to talk to him about you, and he had a serious break-down. He was outside for a little while, and then he shut himself in his room. That was almost three hours ago. I haven't heard a peep out of him since. I don't know what to do." Her tears were evident in her voice.  
  
Leslie wiped away a few of her own tears and clutched the phone even tighter. "Patience. He mostly needs patience. We can't push him. But if you could look up a good therapist in your area and try to gently suggest it to him, that would probably be a good thing."  
  
"Maybe you should come out and see him. You might be able to get through to him."  
  
Leslie almost jumped out of her chair with her need to take act.  _Yes, yes, yes_ , her mind screamed at her. But she stopped herself, gripping the edge of her desk and taking deep breaths as she counted to ten. She had to think of Ben's well-being, here—not just her own wishes.  
  
She swallowed before she replied, and cleared her voice a little to ease up the tightness brought on by her emotions. "I want to. Very, very much. But after what you just said, I'm worried that seeing me will send him into even more of a tailspin. I want—I need him to be ready. I need him to want to see me. Or at least to not be terrified of seeing me. I don't want to be responsible for his condition getting even worse."  
  
"I don't see how that could possibly happen," replied Doreen. "He seems to have very strong feelings for you. I'm sure those feelings will help smooth over whatever issues he's dealing with right now."  
  
"I don't know," said Leslie softly, shaking her head. She lifted a hand to rub her forehead. "I want to believe that. I really do. But I'm scared. I'm scared of coming on too strong and pushing him away for good. I don’t want to lose him completely just because I couldn't be patient."  
  
Doreen was silent for a moment before responding. "I think I understand. I just want to do anything I can to help him, right now."  
  
"I know. I do too. I just don't know if showing up and bombarding him with all these emotions right now is the best way to help him." Leslie was starting to think that nothing in her relationship with Ben would ever come easy. She needed to accept that.  
  
"Alright." Doreen took a deep breath. "I'll try to be patient, too. And I'll try to get him to see a therapist. He really needs it. And I'll see if I can get him to call you. Or maybe you could at least send him a letter? Something he can hold in his hands, and process at his own pace?"  
  
"Yes. Absolutely." This was the direction Leslie had been looking for. A step closer to Ben—a chance to share her feelings with him, without overwhelming him or pushing for too much too soon. "I'll write something tonight. I promise."  
  
"Okay. I wish there was more I could do this instant, but I think you're probably right. I need to be patient. You can understand how hard that is."  
  
"Believe me," said Leslie, "I do. It's taken every ounce of my willpower not to hop in my car today to start driving your way. But I can't push him, right now. He needs time and space. But as soon as he's ready, you better believe I'll be there."  
  
"I do."  
  
As soon as she ended the call, Leslie felt like she'd made the wrong choice.  _Of course_  going to see Ben would help him. What had she been thinking? Then the doubts rose again. Could they really build a relationship off of her riding in on her white horse to "save" him? Or would she just be another casualty of his anxiety disorder? Space and time. And therapy. That's what he needed—not being pushed back into a serious relationship that clearly held traumatic memories for him.  
  
She needed to be more than just the woman he almost got killed—he needed to remember everything else they had. He needed to stop dwelling on the bad ending and to start remembering all the good things they'd shared. Could he do that better with Leslie by his side, or would he be better on his own?  
  
She really had no idea.  
  
Leslie picked up the phone and dialed Dr. Nygard's office. Time for another appointment.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
The first thing Chris did when he got the official go-ahead to come out of hiding was log on to his Facebook account and announce to his 500 friends that he was back.  
  
He watched the computer screen with an uncontainable grin on his face as the "likes" and comments piled up, welcoming him home.  
  
Next, he called his parents. All four of them were overjoyed to hear from him, and Chris promptly scheduled trips to see them. His condo could wait a few more days.  
  
As soon as he got off the phone, he looked at his Facebook post, again. Sixty-eight comments and 124 "likes." It felt magnificent. He pulled up the list of people who had "liked" his post and skimmed through it, beaming at all the familiar names. Then one name jumped out at him, and his heart caught in his throat.  
  
Kelsey Gerard had "liked" his post.  
  
He took a few breaths to steady his nerves, and clicked his way through to her profile. She'd moved from Atlanta to Boston. Probably, at least in part, to be closer to her sister's family. She adored her little niece and nephew. But the item that he couldn't stop looking at was her relationship status: single.  
  
She hadn't found anyone else.  
  
Chris had no doubt in his mind that in the more than two years since he broke off their relationship Kelsey had certainly done some dating. He'd wanted her to. He wasn't possessive, and she deserved to be happy. But she still hadn't found someone special.  
  
 _There's still a chance._  
  
He could hardly let himself think it. Yet, there it was, on the screen, right in front of his face.  
  
He fought back the urge to hop on a flight to Boston this instant. He had no idea what she thought of him now, other than that she "liked" the fact that he was no longer a hostage of the witness protection system. He needed to give this a little time. He had his parents to visit and his condo to move back into.  
  
He needed to be patient.  
  
But he couldn't stop staring at her smiling face in her profile picture.  
  
 _There's still a chance._  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
"Am I doing the right thing?" Leslie asked, rubbing her forehead and staring at the ceiling. She sat slumped in a deep leather armchair, with Dr. Nygard sitting in an identical chair next to her.  
  
"Do you think you're doing the right thing?"  
  
Somehow, she knew he'd say that. "I don't know. That's why I'm here. Asking you."  
  
He nodded and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose a little. "I'm going to have to say that in situations like these, there is no right or wrong. There are just choices. I think giving him some time and space to reacclimatize to life outside of witness protection is a valid choice."  
  
"Am I being selfish?" she said, finally vocalizing her fear. "Like, I think going to him now might help, but I'm afraid that he's so damaged that even though going to him might help him get better, we might not be able to build a healthy relationship afterward. You know? That's what I'm scared of. But it's selfish, isn't it? Putting my desire for a healthy relationship ahead of his mental and emotional well-being. I'm just being selfish."  
  
"Maybe. But it's human to want the things that make us happy." The doctor paused. "Try thinking of it this way—perhaps what Ben wants deep down, more than anything else, is the same as what you want. A healthy relationship together. But what if you going to him now, when he's still broken and traumatized, will interfere with that? In the long run, wouldn't both of you be better off waiting? Wouldn't both of you have a better chance at what you really want if you give him space to heal, first?"  
  
God, she hoped so. "Do you think it will really work out that way?"  
  
"Only time will tell."  
  
 _Damn it._  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
The first four days were the hardest. The picture of Leslie on the wall would inevitably catch Ben's eye, and it would inevitably get him thinking about all the hardship he'd brought into her life, and, whether it took five minutes or two hours, it would inevitably end with him curled up in his bed, visions of red blood seeping through white snow filling his mind.  
  
"I can take it down," his mother said, that fourth night, her sorrow evident in her voice. "If it will help, I can take it down."  
  
Though they both sat at the kitchen table, far out of eyeshot of the picture, she didn't have to explain what she was talking about.  
  
Ben swallowed hard and stared down at his plate of food. Steak and mashed potatoes. He'd barely noticed until now what he was eating.  
  
Would it really help him to take it down? He closed his eyes for a moment to think.  
  
He still missed her—with every breath—with every blink of his eyes—with every step of his feet—with every beat of his heart. He'd probably always miss her.  
  
But would taking the picture down really help?  
  
For the first time since seeing it, he let himself think of the article in the Pawnee Sun. Leslie had her park. She was a town hero. She wore a bright smile to the ground-breaking.  
  
She hadn't given up.  
  
Jesus—Leslie had never given up on anything, ever, as long as he'd known her. And, based on the hushed phone conversations that he'd caught his mother having when she thought he was resting, Leslie still hadn't given up on him, either.  
  
He shook his head just a little, and poked at his steak. "You don't have to take it down."  
  
They ate in silence for a few more minutes before his mother spoke again. "She sent you a letter. It got here yesterday, but you were so . . . I was worried about you yesterday. I was worried that the letter might make things worse. But if you think you're ready, I can give it to you."  
  
Ben's hand shook a little as he lowered his fork to his plate.  
  
 _Ready._  What did that word even mean, in this context?  _Ready._  Ready to hold Leslie's paper in his hands. Ready to read her words. Ready to acknowledge, once and for all, that she didn't end that afternoon in the snow. She kept going.  
  
Because no matter how much evidence Chris or his mom or anyone else had placed in front of him, that was the part that his mind refused to accept it.  
  
She  _kept going._  And he didn't.  
  
Ben looked at his plate and poked his mashed potatoes a few more times before finally abandoning his fork.   
  
Chris almost managed to get him going again in the two weeks leading up to the trial date. But since Everson's suicide everything had felt so confused and rushed. And Chris had left him behind with little more than a hug and a thumbs up. Ben had been left to himself, feeling like a Lazarus with one foot still in the tomb.  
  
Was it time to finish waking up? Was it time to start trying harder? His mom had not-so-subtly pushed a card for a local therapist at him yesterday morning. Was it time to give her a call?  
  
Was he ready?  
  
He stood on the edge of the cliff, and he had to jump or pull back. One way, or the other.  
  
"I'll—I'll read it," he said in a quick, low voice, surprising himself as he spoke.  
  
His mother nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll get it after dinner."  
  
Naturally, she made him wait.  
  
He tried to act nonchalant when she placed the envelope in his hand, but made a hasty escape to his room before even looking at the hand-written addresses.  
  
The room had been outfitted as a guest room, with a homey blue-toned patchwork quilt and bland artwork on the walls. But in anticipation of his coming, his mom had set out several mementos from his youth—a collection of Star Wars models and action figures, set in rows on two selves of the bookcase, staring at him.  
  
Under their gaze he sat on the edge of the bed and slowly ripped open the envelope.  
  
Handwritten on stationary festooned with happy penguins, her words stared up at him.  
  
"I got your letter," she said, "the one you wrote when you were obviously wallowing in guilt and trauma. Just so you know, I have no intention of following your instructions. Really—you didn't honestly believe that I would, did you?"  
  
Ben couldn't stop the corners of his lips from twitching into just a hint of a smile.  
  
"I probably shouldn't have started that way," she continued. "I know it wasn't very kind. But that letter really peeves me. Still, I should probably have started by telling you how much I miss you. Because I do. Very much. Everyday. I think about you all the time. I want to be with you. The only reason I'm not with you right now, this very instant, is because your mom scared me. She made me think that maybe you don't want to see me. Or maybe you'll heal better without me. And if that's the case, I respect that. I really do.   
  
"If you never want to hear from me again after this, I'll learn to live with it. Just know that if you're only staying away from me because you don't think I can forgive you for what happened, then you're wrong. There was never anything to forgive—you weren't to blame.  
  
"And if you're staying away because you haven't forgiven yourself—well—I don't know what to do about that. Except to ask you to get help. Because you're the last person on earth who should be holding himself responsible for any of the shit storm that seemed to follow you everywhere you went starting when you took that job with Everson's. None of it is on your shoulders. None. Nada. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Do I need to go on?  
  
"If you need help to understand that, please, please, get it.  
  
"And if you really genuinely just don't want to see me again, for whatever reason, I'll learn to live with it. Just tell your mom, and she can call me. I think Doreen will know how to let me down easy.  
  
"But I hope you don't feel that way. And I hope you'll be ready to see me soon. Because I am really, really ready to see you.  
  
"Love, Leslie."  
  
He had no idea how long he sat staring at that letter, but he did know that by the time he looked up again, the rest of the house was dark. His mom had gone to bed.  
  
Ben stood up and paced slowly through the house, the words of the letter swirling in his brain. His fingers trailed along the furniture and walls. He felt the need to keep touching something, to help him remember that this was really his life, and not just another dream.  
  
How and why she could possibly still want to be with him after everything made no sense to him.  
  
She really was better off without him—he knew that in his gut. But he wasn't better off without  _her_. Did this letter give him permission to be selfish? Did it give him permission to disrupt her happy life once again, dragging his dark cloud along with him?  
  
His fingers lingered as they swiped over the phone on its charging base in the kitchen. He circled away for a few minutes, but slowly paced his way back. This time he picked up the phone and looked at the numbers. She'd still be up, this time of night. All he had to do was push the numbers.  
  
He'd dialed half the numbers before he stopped himself. He shook his head, put the phone back on its base, and walked back to his room. Not tonight. He needed time to think about this with a level head. He needed to consider all the ramifications of his actions before making this kind of move.  
  
He couldn't—wouldn't—let himself hurt her again.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Chris sat in the airport in Kansas City after concluding a lovely visit with his mom and step-dad. Next stop, Tampa, to see his dad and step-mom.   
  
While he waited, he skimmed Facebook on his phone.  
  
Ever since regaining his freedom he'd been playing "like" tag with Kelsey.  
  
He'd "liked" her triumphant photo after completing a thirty mile bike ride on the previous Saturday. She'd "liked" his reunion photo with his mom and step-dad. He'd "liked" the picture of her dog Hilda after a visit to the groomers. She'd "liked" the picture he took of the grilled Portobello burgers he'd made for dinner. He'd "liked" her report of a successful day at work, and then, this morning, she'd "liked" his posting about leaving for Florida.  
  
Though many of his other friends and acquaintances had left him personal messages and comments on his statuses, Kelsey had said nothing. Just the silent "likes." And he hadn't dared say anything, either.  
  
It could mean anything, really. She might simply be happy for him. That was a normal, human reaction to good news in someone's life—to feel happy for them. But what if it meant more? What if, in spite of all the time that had passed, she was willing to give him a second chance?  
  
He wasn't ready to take that leap. Not yet.  
  
That train of thought led him to Ben.  
  
They'd been each other's confidants for more than two years. For months at a time Ben had been the only person Chris was sure to talk to on a daily basis. Yet he hadn't checked in with him once since leaving Arizona. A twinge of guilt welled in his chest, and he quickly dialed the number for Ben's mother's home.  
  
She answered after three rings. "Mrs. Adams, I presume? I hope you're doing well. This is Chris Robinson. Is Ben still staying with you?"  
  
"Chris! I'm so glad to hear from you. Really. Are you doing well?"  
  
"Extraordinarily well. I am literally having the time of my life, thank you."  
  
"That's wonderful. I'm so glad to hear it." Yet her cheer seemed forced.  
  
"Mrs. Adams—is everything all right?"  
  
A long sigh filled his ear. "Not really. Ben is—he's still here. He's in the bath right now."  
  
Chris frowned. "He's not taking his long sadness baths, again, is he?"  
  
Mrs. Adams chuckled mirthlessly. "Sadness baths is a pretty apt description."  
  
"Oh dear. He's not doing well, is he?"  
  
"No. I'm afraid not. There are times when he seems a little better and I start to hope, but then he slips right back into his depressed funk. He doesn't leave the house except to do a little yard work for me, and he hasn't even spoken to Leslie yet—"  
  
"What?" Chris's jaw dropped. "He won't talk to Leslie?"  
  
"No. I tried to get him to call her, but he goes into a tailspin every time I try to bring her up."  
  
"This is not good," said Chris, vastly understating the matter. "Is he still taking his Zoloft?"  
  
"I haven't seen him taking any pills at all, no."  
  
"He's gone off his meds? God damn it." Chris closed his eyes and shook his head. "Please excuse my language. He'd only just begun to make progress on the medication when everything happened and we got word we could come home. I should have made him promise to stick with it. No wonder he's gone into a tailspin."  
  
Chris should have known this was a possibility. He should have done more to make sure Ben would be alright. He'd been too focused on his own freedom to think of the man who'd been by his side for better or for worse these past two years. He shook his head. "Mrs. Adams—I'm on my way to Florida for three days to visit my dad and step-mom, but when I'm done I'd like to change my itinerary to come up to Minnesota and see Ben. Would that be alright with you?"  
  
"Yes! Absolutely. He needs all the help he can get right now. Thank you so much."  
  
The relief in her voice spoke volumes about how poorly Ben was adjusting. Damn it. "I'll call you the day before I come to let you know my schedule."  
  
"Good. I can't wait."  
  
After hanging up, Chris tapped his thighs nervously. Maybe he should change his itinerary and go to Minnesota, first.   
  
He shook his head. No. Ben had made it through darker times, before. He'd last another three and a half days. And then Chris would be there to see if he could set things right.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
For the next two days, Ben's eyes drifted to the phone every time his mom wasn't looking. And every time he ended up castigating himself. He'd done enough harm to Leslie already. He couldn't let himself hurt her again. But the little voice at the back of his mind would always whisper that maybe—just maybe-- _not_  talking to her hurt her far worse.  
  
He read the letter again and again. He knew he shouldn't. It only encouraged him to hold onto a fantasy that he should have let go of weeks ago.  
  
But it also made him hope—it made him hope that he could someday be the kind of son his mom deserved, again. That someday he could actually be a good uncle to Don's kid. That someday he could learn how to be a friend again. That somehow, in spite of everything, his life would go on.  
  
He needed that kind of hope right now.  
  
On the third morning after first reading the letter, he finally cracked. His mom was at school, working, and the phone had been calling to him since breakfast.  
  
Before his brain could take over he grabbed the handset, punched in the numbers, and hit "talk."  
  
He held his breath as it started to ring.  
  
"Dorrie—hi! Any news?" Leslie's bright voice filled his ear.  
  
He froze.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Doreen had been calling Leslie over her lunch hour, lately, so Leslie was surprised to see her caller I.D. come up at just past 10 am. Especially since it was her home phone number. She frowned as she answered, hoping that things hadn't gotten any worse.  
  
"Dorrie—hi!" she answered. "Any news?"  
  
There was silence on the line, and Leslie's heart began to race. "Dorrie?" she asked again, softly. It couldn't be—could it? She swallowed her fear and said, "Ben?"  
  
She heard a low cough, and then his voice. "Uh, hi. Yeah. It's. . . it's me."  
  
She gripped the arm of her chair and rapidly blinked away the moisture rising in her eyes. "It's good to hear your voice."  
  
"It's good to hear yours, too." He lapsed back into silence.  
  
Leslie gulped. "Wow. So—I—I hope you don't mind that I visited your mom. I just wanted to do something to help."  
  
"No. No. I don't mind. It's good. It's good. She, uh, needs friends. And, and . . . it's good." His voice sounded raw and unsteady.  
  
"Good. I like her. A lot."  
  
"Yeah. She's a good mom."  
  
"She is."  
  
Another silence fell. Leslie took a deep breath. "It's really, really good to hear from you. I miss you."  
  
The silence that followed her confession was painful. She sucked on her bottom lip, waiting—giving him time to answer.  
  
"Fuck." The word was so soft she could barely make it out. Then, a little louder, "I don't know what to say. I—I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This was a mistake. I can't . . . I'm sorry."  
  
"Wait—Ben—" But before she could finish, the call went dead. He'd hung up.  
  
She slowly lowered her phone, grateful that Tom wasn't at his desk. She couldn't handle his questions right now. A low sobbed welled in her chest.  
  
She stood and grabbed her purse and phone, heading for the nearest exit. She couldn’t break down at her desk. She needed to get out of there. She needed Ann.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"I miss you."  
  
Her words burned in his ears, filling his mind. God, how much he'd longed—needed—to hear those words. To hear her voice.  
  
Missing her had become the totality of his existence. Mourning her, really. Mourning the loss of an impossible dream. Mourning the loss of the real, complicated, frustrating, delightful, funny, brilliant, sexy, kind, determined woman that he'd last seen limp and pale and covered in blood, being lifted into the back seat of a police car.  
  
In spite of everything he'd seen and read leading up to this moment, he felt as if he was talking to a ghost.  
  
This couldn't be real. He couldn’t let it be real. He didn't deserve it.  
  
 _He broke her._  
  
Nothing he did could ever make amends for that. Not really. "Fuck."  
  
He heard a faint gasp on the other end of the call.  
  
"I don't know what to say," he muttered, rubbing his face with his free hand, struggling to make sense of the mess of thought and emotion colliding in a tangled game of red rover in his mind. "I—I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He could never apologize enough. Never. "This was a mistake. I can't . . ."  _Can't make you whole again. Can't spare you the pain. Can't be the man you thought I was. Can't deserve you. Never._  "I'm sorry."   
  
He hung up and sank to the ground, his whole body trembling. He gasped and shook and cradled his face in his hands.  
  
He'd fucked things up. Bad.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
A new wave of sobs overtook Leslie, and she clung to Ann even tighter, so glad that her friend had the morning off.  
  
"Why won't he just talk to me?" she repeated through her tears. She'd said it dozens of times already, but she still hadn't thought of a good answer.  
  
Ann smoothed her hair and rubbed her back. "I don't know, honey. I don't know."  
  
"Tell me everything will be okay." Leslie didn't believe herself when she said it. Maybe it would seem more true if Ann said it.  
  
"Everything will be okay. Somehow. I promise."  
  
Leslie nodded her head, and then snuggled tighter against Ann's shoulder.  
  
It would be okay. Somehow.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben sat slouched on the couch when the bell rang. His mom wasn't back from work yet. It was probably for her.  
  
He ignored it.  
  
He'd been ignoring almost everything since his disastrous phone call yesterday morning.  
  
The bell rang again.  
  
And again.  
  
Ben frowned. Why wouldn't they just go away?  
  
The bell rang again.  
  
With a seething anger rising in his chest, Ben stood and stalked toward the front door. He flung it open, expecting an overzealous deliveryman. Instead, he found Chris.  
  
Ben's jaw hung limp and he blinked in surprise.  
  
Chris smiled warmly. "Hello, Benjamin. I hear you're not doing too well?"  
  
A lump rose in Ben's throat and all his anger drained away. "I'm not. I'm really not." He drew in a shaky breath, and felt tears pricking his eyes.  
  
"I'm here to help." Chris's eyes were warm with compassion and he spread his arms wide.  
  
Ben readily accepted his friend's invitation, and wrapped his arms around Chris for a desperate hug.  
  
"I'm so screwed up," he said as Chris patted him on his back.  
  
"Let's see if we can start to fix things. Together."  
  
  
TBC


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was originally published on LiveJournal in September 2013

Ben felt more than a little disoriented and anxious when, less two hours after Chris's arrival, he found himself in the waiting room of his mom's long-time family doctor, hearing the nurse call his name.  
  
Chris grinned. "See—I told you they'd make room in the schedule for us once I explained the situation, and here we are!"  
  
Ben didn't protest when Chris followed him back into the examination room. Chris smiled and chatted amiably with the nurse as she took Ben's weight and blood pressure, and a few minutes later the doctor appeared on the scene.  
  
Ben felt a twinge of embarrassment that he couldn't even be trusted to handle a doctor's appointment. But then, really, he'd pretty much proven that he couldn't handle much of anything over the past couple of weeks.  
  
"So," said the doctor, pulling his laptop workstation in front of him and looking up at Ben over his reading glasses, "what seems to be the problem?"  
  
Chris met Ben's eyes with an encouraging smile and flashed him a big double thumbs-up.  
  
Yeah. Okay. He could do this.  
  
Ben coughed. "I—uh—was on Zoloft for about a month before moving to Partridge. For depression and anxiety. And—and I stopped taking it about two weeks ago when I moved here. It's been pretty rough. I wasn't—I wasn't ready to go off the meds. And I need a new prescription."  
  
The doctor nodded slowly. "Okay. I can probably help you with that. Can you tell me a little more about your symptoms?"  
  
Chris nodded encouragingly. Ben sighed. Here went nothing. He fumbled and mumbled his way through a lengthy description of his symptoms—nightmares, panic attacks, fear of leaving the house, lethargy, inability to complete any meaningful daily tasks, inability to communicate with the people he cares about, and on and on.  
  
It was the first time Ben had really laid the entire ugly truth on the table for someone else to see. And it looked pretty damn bad.  
  
"I can see why you needed the moral support," said the doctor, with a knowing glance at Chris.  
  
Ben felt his face getting warmer. Whatever. It didn't matter what the doctor thought about his relationship with Chris. What mattered was that he never would have come here for help without his friend, so he didn't give a damn what it looked like to other people.  
  
"I think another Zoloft prescription is a very good place to start," said the doctor, "but your issues could probably also benefit from some time with a good therapist. I can give you a recommendation, if you'd like."  
  
Ben swallowed. He didn't like the idea of dredging through all his problems with a stranger. But the doctor was right. Chris was right. His mom was right.  _Leslie_  was right. He needed help. "Okay. Yeah. I'd like that."  
  
Chris drove him straight from the doctor's office to the pharmacy to fill his prescription, and when they got back to the house, Chris sat him down with the phone and encouraged (forced) him to make an appointment with the therapist as soon as possible.  
  
Ben's palms were sweaty and his voice shook as he talked through the schedule with the receptionist, but he was doing it. Progress was finally happening.  
  
"So you don't have anything for two weeks?" he said.  
  
"Hold on a minute," said Chris, swiping the phone from Ben's hand. "Hi," he said to the receptionist. "Sorry to jump in on your talk with my friend here, but he's a little too nervous to tell you that his situation is something of an emergency. He's in a very serious state of post traumatic stress disorder, and his friends and family are deeply concerned that he could fall into a life-threatening depressive episode at any time."   
  
Ben frowned at Chris's somewhat exaggerated statements (Chris and his family did  _really_  see him that way, did they?), but said nothing. He needed to see if Chris could work his magic.  
  
After a pause, Chris said, "Yes." Another pause. "May I ask your name? Marcie. Such a pretty name—and a lovely voice, too. Do you sing? That's fantastic. I wish I was in town long enough to visit your church and hear you perform. Well, Marcie, have you seen any stories about Ben Adams in the local news this past month? Yes—yes!  _That_  Ben Adams. Uh-huh. I agree. He is a hero. A national hero. But the things he's had to suffer to do the right thing have been difficult beyond imagining, and he very dearly needs some help. Yes. Absolutely. Can you? Oh, Marcie, that is literally the best news I've heard all day. Thank you so much for your help. Yes. It's perfect. I do hope I can hear you sing sometime. You're welcome. Take care."  
  
Ben blinked in astonishment as Chris hung up the phone and announced that he's secured an appointment the day after tomorrow. Ben shook his head. "How?"  
  
Chris grinned and pointed at him. "People skills. And the power of positive thinking. I'll have to give you a book about it, sometime."  
  
Ben smiled and laughed, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. "Thanks. Really." This was all long overdue.  
  
Chris patted him on the shoulder. "That's what friends are for."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
When Ann turned her car onto the road that led up into the wooded hills above town, Leslie realized with sudden certainty where their surprise destination was going to be. She gripped the edge of her passenger seat and tried not to let an edge of panic show in her voice. "Um, I'm not so sure this is a good idea."  
  
"I know what I'm doing," replied Ann, her eyes steady on the road ahead of them. "Trust me."  
  
"I do, I do. I just—maybe I should call Dr. Nygard to see what he thinks about this, first."   
  
Ann shook her head. "It's only a few minutes away. Please. Trust me."  
  
Leslie wanted to trust her best friend, but with every mile closer they got to the Slippery Elm cabin, that trust got a little harder, and her heart beat a little faster. "I don't think I'm ready for this."  
  
"You are. You'll see."  
  
As much as she loved Ann, there had been times in the past when her judgment had proved questionable. Leslie was starting to think that today was one of those times.  
  
She breathed out in relief when Ann pulled the car over to the side of the road. Thank god. She couldn't go to that cabin again. Not yet.  
  
"We're here," said Ann, a sly smile on her face.  
  
"We're—out in the middle of the woods? What? What am I missing?" Leslie raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Get out of the car. Let's see if you can figure it out."  
  
Leslie wasn't convinced, but got out of the car. She wanted to see where this was going.  
  
Ann gestured at the woods around them. "Look familiar?"  
  
"Not really," said Leslie glancing around.  
  
Ann nodded. "I thought so. I memorized where it was after I first came out here in January, when you were still in the hospital. Everything was so surreal, I wanted it to make more sense. To be something other than a bad dream. So I drove out here. It was still a crime scene, covered in yellow police tape. I could still see the stain in the snow where you fell. That was enough to make it real. And enough that I'll never forget this place."  
  
Leslie's heart froze as her eyes darted around the cluster of trees closest to the road.  _Oh crap_. "Ann. . . I. . . I don't know if I can be here."  
  
"Would you have recognized it if I hadn't said anything?" Ann held her gaze.  
  
Leslie shook her head. She had to admit that she wouldn't have. It looked like any other stretch of woods.  
  
Ann reached out to take her hand. "Come on."   
  
Ann led her toward a cluster of three thick-trunked trees. The evening light filtered down through the small spring leaves, making a dancing pattern of shadow on the ground. Leslie held her breath.  
  
"There it is," said Ann, pointing to one of the trunks. "Right there."  
  
Leslie frowned. "There is what?"  
  
"The place where the bullet went through. The bullet that hit you." Ann stepped up to the tree and touched a small dimple in the trunk, with a small glob of sap hardened around the base.  
  
"Oh my god." Leslie crouched and squinted at the dimple, and poked at it with her finger. "It's so small."  
  
"Look at the other side," said Ann.  
  
Leslie circled the trunk. A hunk of bark had flaked off around a visible hole, about the size of a silver dollar. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and poked at the jagged hole. So that's what the doctor had meant when he said the bullet was deformed before it hit her. This was the tree that had saved her life. "Wow," she whispered.  
  
"Yep. Wow," said Ann.  
  
Leslie looked up to see her friend standing behind her, her arms folded. "It looks bad. But look up. Look at the rest of the tree," said Ann.  
  
Turning her eyes skyward, Leslie held her breath again. Every branch of the tree was covered with the same bright, happy green leaves worn by its neighbors. It swayed in the breeze looking as lovely and carefree as a tree could look.  
  
She nodded slowly. "Okay. I get it. You're making a big metaphorical point."  
  
Ann shrugged. "I couldn't help myself. And you seemed to need it, after yesterday."  
  
Leslie sighed. "Yeah. So. I am the tree."  
  
"You are the tree." Ann wrapped her arm around Leslie's shoulders. "You are the tree. You'll always have a scar, but you're healing. Life is still going. And you're still as beautiful and wonderful as ever. You can live with the scars. It doesn't change who you are."  
  
Leslie smiled. It was a nice sentiment. It might almost be enough to make her feel better—except she kept wondering why Ben couldn't be the tree, too? Why couldn't he keep going, in spite of his scars? She loved him. She loved him with her whole heart. But maybe she needed to accept the fact that maybe his scars were too deep. Maybe he couldn't go on the way she could.  
  
Maybe, in spite of the trial and the threats and the fears being over and done with, they still wouldn't be able to make things work.  
  
Maybe she needed to learn to be the tree alone.  
  
"Thanks," she said softly, leaning her head against Ann's.  
  
"Any time."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"Thank you for another fantastic meal, Doreen," said Chris, after finishing his second dinner in the Adams' residence. He rested his silverware on his plate and rose to help clear the table.  
  
Doreen smiled. "You are very welcome, Chris."  
  
As he helped her slide the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, Doreen wrapped an arm around his waist and murmured, "I can't thank you enough for coming. It's been less than two days, but he already seems so much better. I can finally see a light at the end of the tunnel."  
  
"It's been my pleasure. Really. Just make sure he stays on his meds, and keep him going back to the therapist every week, and I think we'll pull him through this."  
  
"I hope you're right." Doreen patted his shoulder.  
  
Chris hoped he was right, too. He loved Ben, but he couldn't stay here and cheerlead for him for much longer. Now that Ben was back on the right track, it was time to leave. He had a life to re-start back in Atlanta. And Kelsey . . . Well, he still needed to figure that one out.  
  
Later, after saying goodnight to Doreen, Chris sat beside Ben on the couch and held up a large scrapbook. It was time to see if he could push Ben back toward the one person that he knew could help Ben complete his journey of healing.  
  
Ben's lips were tight as he stared at the book.  
  
"Doreen showed this to me after school today. She says you haven't looked at it, yet," said Chris.  
  
Ben looked down at his hands. "I just . . . couldn't face those memories, yet."  
  
There was a time for being soft, and a time for being hard. Chris was inclined to think that the time for being soft had passed. "Leslie isn't dead, Ben. She isn't dead, and the man you were when you were with her isn't dead, either."   
  
Ben cleared his throat, but his voice was still rough when he spoke. "I'm not so sure about that."  
  
"I am." Chris hoped his firm conviction came through in his voice. "I still see glimpses of him, every once in awhile. But he's afraid to come out of hiding." Chris shook his head. "You don't need to be afraid anymore. Let us help you. Really talk to that therapist tomorrow, and let her start to help you. And look at this amazing scrapbook of the time you spent in Pawnee, and let it remind you of who you really are. You can come back from this. You can find yourself, again. I have one hundred percent faith in you."  
  
Ben sniffed, tears glistening in his eyes. "Why? All I do is let people down. I get people hurt. Starting with you. Why do you even want to be around me anymore?"  
  
Chris gripped Ben's shoulder and held his gaze. "Because you're my friend. And I'm yours. And I always will be."  
  
Ben swiped at the moisture on his cheeks with the back of his hand. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."  
  
"Maybe someday you'll figure it out. Start by reading this scrapbook. Please?"  
  
"Okay." The word slipped out of Ben's mouth like an involuntary sigh. But he followed up with a purposeful nod. "Okay. I'll look at it." He held out his hand, and Chris put the scrapbook in it.  
  
"I'll be leaving after breakfast tomorrow," he said. "But you can call me anytime—day or night. And I want you to promise to make it to that therapy appointment."  
  
"I promise."  
  
"Good. Now go get some sleep."  
  
Chris watched Ben cradle the scrapbook against his chest as he walked to his room and closed the door behind him.  
  
Chris wasn't sure how much good this visit did, but at least it was a start. Ben was back on the path of healing. And that was something.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Ben tossed and turned. Every few minutes he opened his eyes and stared at the dark rectangle sitting on his nightstand. He'd done his best to ignore the scrapbook ever since his mother showed it to him, but now it loomed there beside him, taunting him with the memories of the man he'd tried to be.  
  
Chris was overly optimistic if he thought this book could help him be that man again.  
  
He yawned and rubbed his eyes.  
  
If it was so hopeless, why couldn’t he stop thinking about it?  
  
He rubbed his forehead in resignation, sat up, and then clicked on his bedside lamp.  
  
The scrapbook felt heavy in his hands. The title, picked out in bold bright-patterned paper letters, read, "Ben in Pawnee."  
  
Simple. Right to the point.  
  
He held his breath, and opened it.  
  
The first page held a copy of the minutes of the meeting during which Paul had introduced him and Chris to the department directors, with handwritten annotations. "I thought they were both super attractive, but while Chris was all smiles, Ben looked unhappy and nervous. But I stopped caring and started hating Ben as soon as Paul announced why they were there. Sorry!"  
  
Then came an invitation to April's birthday party at the Snakehole Lounge, along with Leslie's commentary: "I yelled at Ben again. Sorry! But he seemed to like it . . ."  
  
The next page held a napkin from Sullivan's, with Leslie's scrawled notation. "I thought Ben was jittery and weird. But I was starting to like him. Until he shut the government down later that day."  
  
Then a flyer for the Freddy Spaghetti concert with a snapshot of him and Chris standing on the sidelines. He'd had no idea anyone took a picture of him that day. How did she ever track it down?  
  
The handwritten caption on that page read: "Ben to the rescue!"  
  
He found himself smiling as memories of his awkward flirting came flooding back into his mind. God, he'd been a mess. But somehow, she'd brought the best out in him.  
  
With every page and every one of her notes, all the memories that he'd been afraid to revisit came flooding back. All the crazy up and downs. All the accomplishments. All the friends.  
  
For a half an hour he lost himself in the memories. Pawnee was the first place he'd been truly happy in a long, long time.  
  
Once he came to the end, he closed the book and held it against his chest. Chris seemed to think he could still go back, but after his disaster of a conversation with Leslie, he was pretty sure he'd burned his last bridge.  
  
 _Maybe there's still a chance. Maybe she'll still forgive me._  
  
He closed his eyes and imagined a world where Leslie and Ron and Andy and all the others would welcome him back.  
  
It seemed so far out of reach. But so had the Harvest Festival. So had reviving the community education program. So had getting Leslie to feel for him the same way he felt for her.  
  
Pawnee was a place where the impossible came true.  
  
Slowly, he drifted off to sleep.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Chris embraced Ben one last time before getting in his rental car and driving out of Partridge, feeling cautiously optimistic. Ben had a new light in his eyes. And his first therapy appointment that afternoon.  
  
But Chris needed to do a little more before he headed back to Atlanta to start his reborn life. He pointed his car toward Indiana.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben's heart pounded as he sat down across from the therapist, Dr. Houston.  
  
"I follow the news, so I have something of an idea of what you've been through the past few years," she said, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. She wasn't holding a notepad or any recording device. Wasn't she supposed to take notes?  
  
Ben nodded. "Yeah. It's been—it's been tough."  
  
Dr. Houston held his gaze. "First and foremost, right now, I'm here to listen. I'm not going to offer advice or suggestions until I know where you're at, mentally and emotionally. So for today I want you to do most of the talking. I know the bare bones of what you've gone through, but the news stories only ever scratch the surface. So, Ben, why don't you tell me what you need to talk about? Where do want to start?"  
  
"Indiana," he said. "I was in witness protection in Indiana."  
  
"Go on." She nodded.  
  
Ben looked down at his hands, his mind replaying all the memories that the scrapbook had jogged loose. "I was happy there. For the first time in years, I was happy. I had friends. I had a job that I liked—that actually  _helped_ people. And I met the most amazing woman I've ever known. I—I fell in love with her. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to follow through with the trial and testify. I just wanted to stay with her forever." He shook his head. "And I stayed too long. And I got her shot. And I left her like that, broken and bleeding. I left her. I still have trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that she survived. That she's okay. And when I tried to talk to her a few days ago, I fucked it up. I just . . . I don't know how to come back from that."  
  
Dr. Houston nodded slowly. "That sounds like a pretty good place to start. What's her name?"  
  
"Leslie. Her name is Leslie."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Leslie didn't recognize the number on her caller ID when her phone rang at 8:30 that morning, but she recognized the voice at the other end of the line the instant he spoke.  
  
"Leslie Knope! I'm so excited to hear your voice again!"  
  
"Oh my god. Chris!" Her jaw dropped. Of all the people in the world, he was one of the last she'd expected to hear from again.   
  
"Hello! I just spent the night in Indianapolis, and I'm actually on my way into Pawnee even as we speak."  
  
Leslie's mouth opened even wider. "What?"  
  
"I'd love to sit down with you and chat for a little while. Can you meet me at The Jitter House for some coffee in about fifteen minutes? It's important."  
  
Something in his voice told her that she couldn't pass this meeting up. "I'll be there."  
  
She beat him to the coffee shop by a few minutes, and her heart pounded in her chest when he stepped through the door. She greeted him with a hug and smile, and waited for him to order his coffee before they sank down into a cozy corner table together. Leslie politely answered all his questions about the how her health was and how the whole gang was doing, and then politely asked a few questions about what he was doing now, and how his reunions with loved ones went. She even took the time to make arrangements to ship the several boxes of his abandoned possessions that currently sat in her garage to him in Atlanta. After almost ten minutes of these pleasantries, she couldn't stand it anymore—the question that had been on the tip of her tongue the whole time came tumbling out of her mouth. "Have you heard anything from Ben? He's not doing well, and I'm worried about him."  
  
"Ben is exactly the reason I'm here," said Chris.  
  
Leslie's could hardly stay in her seat as he recounted his story of the past few days in Ben's company, getting him back on track with his meds and getting him to a therapist. "I think he's taken the crucial first steps, but he needs a few more pushes in the right direction to get him to the point where he's ready to let himself heal," said Chris soberly.  
  
She gripped her coffee cup so hard it started to crumple. "I wish there was something I could do."  
  
"There is. Go to him. Take a long weekend, and go to him."  
  
Her breath caught in her throat and she shook her head. "He's made it clear that he doesn't want to talk to me. I can't violate his personal space like that."  
  
"What's perfectly clear to me," said Chris, meeting her eyes with an intense gaze, "is that there is nothing in the world that he wants more than to talk to you. You are constantly at the forefront of his mind. But he's too crippled by anxiety and fear and guilt and remorse to invite you back into his life. So you're going to have to be a little pushy. You didn't used to have a problem with that, if I recall. And neither did Ben."  
  
Leslie's breath came a little faster at Chris's words (did Ben  _really_  feel that way?), but her lips curved up in a mirthless smile. "No. I didn't. But things have changed."  
  
"Not as much as you think." Chris reached out to place his hands over hers. "Don't over think this. Don't stop to analyze. Do you want to be with him?"  
  
She swallowed and nodded, her whole chest fluttering with nerves. "Yes."  
  
"Then go to him. The sooner the better. Stop worrying about it, and just do it."  
  
It was the permission she'd been waiting for. Why had she waited at all?  
  
 _Because I was afraid he didn't love me anymore. That's why._  
  
Since when had she let fear stop her from doing anything she believed in?  
  
 _Since I almost died. But this can't kill me. The worst it can do is break my heart—but I've survived that before. I can survive it again, if it comes down to it. But it might not come to that . . ._  
  
She nodded. "You're sure he wants to see me?"  
  
"Without a doubt."  
  
Leslie squeezed her lips together, her chest swelling with her new sense of determination. "Okay. I'm gonna go for it."  
  
Chris grinned. "Literally nothing in the world would make me happier."  
  
Leslie jumped to her feet. "I've got to go pack. I'm not waiting another day."  
  
"Good." Chris rose to his feet to give her a parting hug.  
  
"Thank you so much for coming and giving me this push. I've been about ready to explode the past few weeks. This is exactly what I needed."  
  
Chris squeezed her hand. "I was hoping you'd feel this way. Before you go—I have a question. Do you think Ann Perkins would object to seeing me? I would very much like to clear the air with her about a few things."  
  
Leslie's heart warmed and she squeezed his hand back. "I think she'd like that. She doesn't work this afternoon. Go ahead and give her a call."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The odd mixture of excitement, guilt and regret that filled Chris's chest when he saw Ann again made it hard to break the ice, but after a few awkward minutes of sitting across a table at the juice bar they once frequented, he found a topic they could both ease into: Leslie.  
  
Ann knit her brows and shook her head. "So you just told her to go, and she went? I've been trying to get her to do something for weeks. To call him, or to go see him, or to get over him and put it behind her. Seriously. Weeks. And all it takes is one fifteen minute conversation with you, and she's out of here?"  
  
Chris shrugged. "Sometimes people need an outside impetus to get them to leave their comfort zone to strike out into unknown territory. I suppose my arrival was the final push she needed."  
  
Ann rolled her eyes and sipped her smoothie through a straw. "That's so not fair."  
  
"I've found that life rarely is. We just have to make the best of what it gives us," said Chris. That particular truth had hit home more times than he could count over the past few years.  
  
Ann nodded slowly. "You're right. Absolutely right."  
  
"Which brings us to . . . well, to us," said Chris.  
  
"I guess so." Ann took a deep breath and sat up a little taller. He could see the vulnerability behind her façade of strength, and it made his heart ache.  
  
"I wish I could have told you the truth myself. I wish I'd found a way."  
  
"Me too," she said quietly. "But I understand why you couldn't."  
  
Chris nodded. "I'm glad for that much."  
  
"But you shouldn't have gotten me into a relationship. I mean, I probably came on too strong, but still, you should have stuck to a few one-night stands. Not something that meant something." Ann's eyes flicked downward. "At least, it meant something to me. I mean—I'm fine. I'm over it. I've been dating around. It's good. But it did hurt. Especially since I thought we'd finally become friends."  
  
The ache in his heart intensified. "We were friends. And it did mean something to me, too. As often as I told myself that it wasn't real, a part of me always wanted it to be. You truly are an amazing, intelligent, beautiful woman, Ann Perkins. And it was a privilege to have you in my life. But you're right. I abused that privilege. I used you. And I was wrong. I'm sorry."  
  
Ann sighed and then smiled up at him. "I think this the third time you've apologized for the same mistake."  
  
"That's how wrong I was. One apology wasn't enough."  
  
"Well," Ann toyed with her straw, "since you did come all this way in person, I think I can forgive you."  
  
Chris smiled back, the ache in his heart easing. If they'd met in another time, in another place, maybe this could have been something real. But, nevertheless, he was proud to call her a friend. "Thank you, Ann Perkins. I'm happy to hear it."  
  
Ann grinned and took another sip of her smoothie. "It's good to see you again, Chris. I'm really happy you can finally get your real life going."  
  
"Me too."  
  
Her smile faded. "But I'm worried about Leslie. Do you think he's going to break her heart, again? Because I might have to drive to Minnesota to punch him the face, if he does, and my car really needs new tires first."  
  
Chris chuckled. Ann had such a delightful sense of humor. "No. I really don't think he will. I rather expect quite the opposite."  
  
Ann raised her eyebrows. "Well. I hope for his sake, and the sake of my poor car, that you're right. I don't think I can take much more of this emotional roller coaster he's been putting Leslie through."  
  
"I have high hopes that particular ride is coming to an end."  
  
"Good." Ann narrowed her eyes. "Now how about you? How are things with Kelsey?"  
  
Chris leaned back, at a loss for words. "I—I—"  
  
Ann frowned. "I'm sorry. It didn't go well?"  
  
Chris shook his head. "Well, actually, I haven't really spoken with her yet."  
  
"Why not?" Ann gave him an arch look.  
  
"The timing didn't seem right. I want to ease into things. We have interacted on Facebook a few times." He felt silly admitting it.  
  
"You've chatted on Facebook? Well, that's something, I guess." Ann looked unconvinced.  
  
Chris found himself shrinking as he made his next confession. "We haven't actually chatted. We've just . . . liked each other's posts a few times." A few dozen times. But he didn't want to admit to  _all_  the embarrassing details.  
  
"Oh my god, Chris. What the hell is the problem?" Ann threw up her hands. "Is she married or something?"  
  
He shook his head. "No. I have every reason to believe that she's still single."  
  
"I thought she was the love of your life? So why haven't you done anything about it? "  
  
His throat got tighter. Yes. She was. So why  _hadn't_  he done anything? "I honestly don't know."  
  
Ann met his eyes with an exasperated look. "It seems like Leslie and Ben aren't the only ones who need a little outside push to get their lives going again. You seem a little stuck, yourself."  
  
Chris nodded, the full extent of his cowardice finally sinking in. "I think you might be right."  
  
"Well, consider yourself pushed. If you don't do something to get in touch with her as soon as you leave Pawnee, I'm going to get on your Facebook and start harassing you daily. Got it?"  
  
"Got it." Chris smiled wryly. He had no doubt that she would follow through with her threat. "Leslie is very lucky to have a friend like you. And so am I."  
  
Ann smiled back. "Leslie is very lucky to have a friend like you, too. And so am I."


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter originally published on LiveJournal in September 2013

Between getting back on the meds and finally opening up about his problems first to Chris and then to the therapist, Ben felt almost like himself when Don and Lisa came over for Friday night dinner and games. They'd just finished their second game of Settlers of Catan (his mom won the first game, but Ben managed to pull out a narrow win in the second) when the doorbell rang.  
  
Everyone blinked in surprise.  
  
"It's past ten," said Lisa. "Who in the world would be stopping by so late?"  
  
"I'll go see," said Don, getting up and heading for the door.  
  
Ben's hand felt twitchy and his heart started pounding. He'd feel a lot safer if he had a gun to pick up.  
  
Then he heard a soft feminine voice talking to Don, and his heart froze.  
  
He moved as if in a dream as he rose from his chair and drifted toward the front room, barely noticing the concerned questions from his mom and Lisa.  
  
He stepped out of the hall into the front room, and stopped. His feet wouldn't move another step.  
  
Don turned and stepped aside to reveal the woman standing on the front porch, but Ben already knew who it was.  
  
Leslie's hair was a little longer, and in spite of the large sweater she wore over her jeans, he could tell that she'd lost weight. Her smile was tired and nervous.  
  
But she was still Leslie. Her eyes shone just as bright as ever. And she was standing right in front of him—alive and well.  
  
"I'm sorry, I should have called," she said, shaking her head. "I just . . . a mutual friend showed up in Pawnee and told me I should come. So I came."  
  
Ben tried to take a step forward, but his feet still wouldn't move. He swallowed. "Chris?" he managed to croak.  
  
She nodded, her smile softening. "Chris."  
  
Their eyes locked, and silence fell. Ben felt like he might pass out, and realized it was because he'd stopped breathing.  
  
"Um . . ." Don's voice broke the tension of the moment. "Do you, uh, want to come in?"  
  
Leslie's smile vanished. "It's late. I don't know what I was thinking. I got a hotel room already—I should have stayed there instead of coming over so late. I should just go and come back tomorrow. I should go—"  
  
"Don't leave." Ben's voice came out as barely more than a rough whisper.  
  
He swallowed and forced his legs to move, stepping a few paces closer to where she stood shivering in the night air. "Don't leave," he repeated, feeling like his heart really would stop beating if she turned her back on him now. "Please."  
  
"I'll stay," she said, stepping across the threshold. Her eyes looked over his shoulder. "If it's okay . . . ?"  
  
"Please, Leslie. Come in. You're always welcome," his mother said from behind him. He turned his head to see her and Lisa staring between him and Leslie.   
  
Don looked more than a little bemused, too. He cleared his throat. "Leslie, let me introduce you to my wife, Lisa." He gestured.  
  
Lisa smiled and waved. "Hi. Good to meet you. Doreen's told me so much about you."  
  
"I wish we could stay to chat," said Don, "but we were just getting ready to leave. Maybe we can see you again tomorrow?"  
  
Leslie's eyes darted back to Ben for a moment before returning to Don. "I hope so."  
  
Don and Lisa scrambled for their coats and made some hasty goodbyes before stepping out the front door and closing it behind them. Ben still hadn't managed to move from the place where his feet had taken root, but Leslie came a little further into the room. She kept sending nervous glances in his direction while shaking hands with Don and Lisa as they said goodnight.  
  
Once the door was closed, his mom turned to them. "I'm going to put on a pot of coffee for you, and then I'm going to bed. Feel free to stay as long as you like."  
  
Ben managed a smile as she moved as fast on her crutches as most people moved on their feet, leaving him alone in the front room with Leslie.  
  
She held his gaze and took a deep breath. "So . . ."  
  
It was the first time she spoke directly to him since agreeing to stay, and it was enough to break that spell that had been holding him frozen. "Sit. We should—we should sit. Right?" He gestured at the armchairs positioned in the cradle of the front bay window.  
  
Leslie nodded. "Yes. Sitting sounds good. That's what people usually do in these situations, I think."  
  
"Okay. We'll sit."  
  
Ben perched on the edge of his armchair, torn between keeping a respectful distance (given how poorly their last interaction ended) and reaching out to touch her. God, he wanted to touch her—to feel, once and for all, that she was real and whole and sitting right next to him.  
  
He noticed that Leslie did the same, balancing right on the edge of her chair as if those few extra inches closer to him meant something.  
  
Maybe they did. Maybe they meant everything.  
  
 _She came as soon as Chris told her to come. I fucked things up, but she still came._  
  
They sat in silence for a moment before Leslie took a deep breath and spoke. "I should have come sooner. I wanted to, but I was worried that you didn't want to see me. But Chris said . . .he said that you probably did. So I decided to take a chance." She looked down at her hands until the very end. On the word "chance" her eyes darted up to meet his, a look of anxious hope suffusing her face.  
  
Dozens of possible responses clouded Ben's mind, and he sat for a moment pondering which one to use before finally settling on the truth—or as close to the truth as he could come. "I've wanted to see you every minute of every hour of every day since I left Pawnee. But I don't deserve a second chance at that kind of happiness."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie's heart ached all the more over the matter-of-fact tone in which Ben confessed his reason for avoiding her. It was as if he really believed it—and thought that everyone else would believe it, too. Including her.  
  
He was thin and haggard, the lines around his eyes more pronounced than they'd been before their time apart. Somewhere along the way he'd given up on personal grooming, and his shaggy hair drooped low over his forehead while a short, scruffy beard obscured the lower half of his face.   
  
The total impression of his appearance could be summed up in a single word: weary. Ben looked so damn weary.  
  
Time to change that. If he'd let her.  
  
"Lots of people don't deserve what life gives them, the good or the bad. So I don't care what you think you deserve. I'm here. I'm in your life. And I'm determined to stay in your life until you tell me to leave. So—" She paused just for a moment, to gather the courage to say what needed to be said next. "—are you going to tell me to leave?"  
  
"No." His voice was rough and moisture stood glistening in his eyes, stubbornly refusing to turn into tears. "I don't want you to go."  
  
"Good." Baby steps. She had to content herself with baby steps. No gathering him into her arms and smothering him with her kisses. She had to take it slow and easy. She couldn't screw this one up.  
  
He nodded and swallowed, his eyes searching hers.   
  
What next? Where to start?  
  
Ben spoke first. "I saw—I saw you got your park. Lot 48. We weren't supposed to go on the internet, but Chris broke the rules for me. He found the article. A few articles, really, but that was the last one he brought home. You got your park." He let himself smile on the last sentence—a small, wistful smile.  
  
She'd missed that smile so much. "I wish you could've been there for the groundbreaking. As happy as I was—as I am—that this park is finally being built, it felt a little empty. Because it's only happening as a PR stunt for Sweetums. Not because I successfully raised the funds and cut through the red tape and won the battle. It's bittersweet. I haven't been able to tell that to anyone, because they wouldn't understand. But you do, don't you?"  
  
Ben nodded, clasping his hands between his knees and hunching forward. "Some people say that a win is a win, no matter how you get it. But some wins don't feel earned. And others come at too high a price."  
  
A lump rose in her throat. "Yeah. They do."  
  
One of Ben's tears finally pushed past the barrier of his eyelid and rolled down his cheek, only to be trapped like a glimmering dewdrop in his beard. Leslie stared at it as he spoke again.  
  
"I want to apologize a million times over for staying when I should have left—for putting you in harm's way because I listened to my heart instead of my head. I want to—I  _need_  to—tell you how sorry I am. But I can't." He blotted the moisture from his cheek and wiped at his eyes. Leslie felt her own tears welling, hot and ready to spill.  
  
Ben shook his head. "I can't because that would mean feeling sorry for what we had. And I can't. I can't feel sorry for that. I've tried to. I've tried so hard to convince myself that both our lives would've been better if we hadn't been together. But it never worked. And I hate myself for that. Because our relationship is what got you hurt. I should regret it, because it brought my problems and my danger down on you. I was selfish and greedy and stupid, and it got you hurt, and I should regret being with you because of that. But I don't. I don't." He wiped his eyes again and hung his head forward, avoiding her gaze. "I feel so fucking guilty for not regretting it. I'm sorry."  
  
Leslie didn't bother wiping the tears away as they coursed down her cheeks. "I guess I finally understand why you've been avoiding me." She'd known this was going to hurt, but she hadn't realized how bad.  
  
Ben sniffed and smiled—an expression of mixed relief and bitterness. "Now that one I  _can_  apologize for. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."  
  
"I'm sorry, too." Her voice shook. "I should've come sooner. I shouldn't have let anything stop me. I'm sorry."  
  
"Thank god for Chris, right?" Ben's expression was finally beginning to soften. He almost looked like himself again.  
  
She nodded. "Thank god for Chris." Her hands twitched forward, reaching out him, but small side table and an unwieldy expanse of floor stood between them.  
  
He must have noticed her movement because he frowned. "Why the hell are we sitting on these chairs?"  
  
Leslie smiled—a smile so warm she could feel it coursing upward from her chest. "I have no idea."  
  
She couldn't say which one of them stood first or if they rose simultaneously, but before she could take another breath they were both on their feet and her arms were wrapped around his lean torso and his arms had enfolded her whole upper body and they were both squeezing so tightly that she could hardly take that breath that she now needed pretty badly but she didn't even care. She laughed and cried, and Ben just cried, but she could handle that. Let him cry all he needed to—as long as it was on her shoulder.  
  
The minutes slipped by. Leslie couldn't have said how long—who kept track of time during moments like this? They stood holding each other, swaying slightly first to the rhythm of their tears, and then to the softer rhythm of their breathing. She sucked in his scent, letting it fill her with memories of all the nights she spent wrapped in his arms. She traced the pattern of his backbones and shoulder blades with her fingers to remind herself that this wasn't all a dream.  
  
Ben was the first to break the spell. "Thank you for coming," he murmured into her hair.  
  
Leslie smiled against his shoulder. "Thank you for asking me to stay." She tilted her head up to meet his eyes—still moist and shining—to see the look of bewildered gratitude that they held. And then his lips met hers and she stopped thinking altogether.  
  
His kiss was tentative and hungry all at once, and she pushed toward him with so much energy that their noses smashed a little, and her lips burned against the friction of his beard, but it was perfect all the same. When it ended she breathed a little faster and laughed with relief, clinging to him to steady herself. "I think I could use that pot of coffee now."  
  
"Me too."  
  
They held hands on their way to the kitchen, and she couldn't stop smiling as they found some mugs and sugar and he dug through the fridge to find the can of whipped cream that Leslie had left there after her visit almost a month ago.  
  
"I can really do without," she said, leaning back against the counter edge, smiling at the site of him bending over, digging through the dimly lit fridge.  
  
"No—I know it's still in here. I saw it a few days ago. Just give me a sec . . ." He shifted a few more items. "Found it!" He rose with a pleased smile that made her heart leap. He waved the can in front of him, showing it off, and then squinted and looked at it a little closer. "And it doesn't expire for two more weeks. We're good to go."  
  
After doctoring their mugs of coffee to their tastes they sank onto Doreen's family room couch, snuggled close. The feeling of Ben's leg pushed up against hers and his arm wrapped around her shoulders was enough to make her forget all the problems that still stood in their way. She could worry about those tomorrow. For today, just sitting beside him was enough.  
  
She took a big sip of her sweet caffeinated goodness and licked her lips. "I feel like there's so much to say—we have so much to catch up on. I don't where to start. Do you want to talk about you, or about me?"  
  
"Not about me," Ben said immediately, his tone sharp.  
  
Leslie held her tongue for a moment. This was one of the problems that could wait until tomorrow.  
  
His voice softer, Ben said, "Catch me up on the people in the parks department. All of them, one at a time."  
  
"Okay." She settled deeper into the crook of his arm. "Let's start with Ron. Believe it or not, he's been dating Tonya."  
  
Ben blinked a few times. "Tonya  _Burdette_? Federal marshal Tonya?"  
  
"Yep. I thought you'd appreciate that." She grinned and settled in for a long night of stories.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Ben could listen to stories of Pawnee forever. He leaned into the couch cushions, holding Leslie close, and listened to her tales of Ron's unexpected new relationship, Tom's venture into the world of small-batch liqueur, Paul's return to his post as city manager, and a recent spat with the neighboring town of Eagleton over a shared park.  
  
When she got to April and Andy, she had another bit of unexpected news. "So, their search for a new roommate eventually turned into a search for a cheaper home, and they found a great deal on a fully furnished condo that had been recently and unexpectedly vacated." She raised a teasing eyebrow.  
  
"No," he said. "You mean—?"  
  
"Yep. They took over the lease of your old condo, and April's weirdo friend Orin moved into the extra room. That guy gives me the creeps. But don't worry—we boxed up all of Chris's stuff and your stuff. I brought some to Doreen, but there are still a few boxes in my garage."  
  
"You found room for more boxes in your garage?"  
  
"Hey!" Leslie poked him. "You could show a little gratitude."  
  
Ben smiled at her playful tone. God, he could really get used to this. He leaned his head against hers. "I am grateful. Really. Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome." She nuzzled him back.  
  
Ben let out a contented sigh and rested his head on her shoulder and the cushions, sinking into a position of total comfort. So what if he didn't deserve this.  
  
Really. So what?  
  
She was here. She was smiling and happy and  _alive_. And she wanted to be with him. That was all that really mattered in the end, wasn't it?  
  
Maybe if he told himself that enough times, he'd get over the guilt.  
  
"Can you keep telling me about Pawnee? Tell me about how Mouse Rat is doing, and if Andy is still taking Krav Maga, and how all the businesses we partnered with for the 5k and Harvest Festival are doing. I want to hear everything. Please?" If he was going to let himself live inside this dream tonight, he might as well wade in all the way.   
  
Leslie ran her hand down his arm until she reached his hand; she threaded her fingers through his. "Okay. I'll tell you everything."  
  
Ben closed his eyes and listened.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie blinked and gasped, waking with a start. It took her just a moment to remember where she was—Doreen's house, with Ben.  
  
To be more specific, reclining against Ben, who was reclining against the arm of the sofa. Somehow, in the middle of catching him up on three months of Pawnee, they'd both drifted off to sleep.  
  
Leslie smiled at the sight of him looking so peaceful. She reached up to gently push some of the hair off of his forehead and sighed. A quick glance at the wall clock determined that it was four-eighteen in the morning. And though she wanted to stay here like this until the sun came up, she knew she could sit still that long. She'd inevitably wake Ben up, and then they'd have to start dealing with things.   
  
She wasn't ready to deal with things, yet. Neither was Ben. He needed his rest. And she needed a shower.   
  
Carefully and slowly she wiggled out from under his arm. He twitched and shifted, but didn't wake up. She tip-toed out to the front room to get the purse she'd abandoned there. She pulled out a notepad and a pencil. She could probably get to the hotel, shower, change and come back all before Ben woke up, but she'd leave a note just in case.  
  
As she scrawled the words, "I'll be back soon," she heard a cough and some movement from the family room. Maybe she'd woken him up, after all.   
  
She crept back to the family room to find Ben sitting up, his disheveled hair sticking up at strange angles, his eyes blinking rapidly in the dim light. His eyes focused in on her. "You're here."  
  
"I'm here." She stepped a little closer.  
  
He shook his head, looking disoriented. "For a second there I thought it was all a dream." His eyes turned to the purse slung over her shoulder. "Were you leaving?"  
  
The undisguised pain in his question hit her like a slap. She shook her head and quickly sat down beside him. "No. Well, yes, but also no. I was going to slip over to the hotel for a couple of hours to shower and change. I thought I'd be back before you woke up. I'm sorry."  
  
"So you're not leaving?" He clutched at her hand.  
  
She shook her head. "Not leaving. I just wanted you to sleep in peace for a few hours."  
  
Ben nodded, looking more asleep than awake. "Okay."  
  
"Okay." His eyes didn't seem to be focusing on anything anymore. "Time to get you back to bed."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Leslie stood and helped him to his feet. She held his hand as he shambled down the hall to his room. After he lay down on the bed she pulled the shoes off his feet and sat beside him, pushing the hair back from his face one more time. "You get some sleep."  
  
"You can stay." He met her gaze with hopeful eyes.  
  
Tempting—to wrap up in his comforter and snuggle close. She'd missed the snuggling so much. She shook her head. "I'm way too amped up to sleep. I'd just fidget and keep you awake."  
  
"I don't mind," he said, his voice rough.  
  
Leslie smiled. "You might not mind  _now,_  but you probably will at two in the afternoon when you're so tired you can hardly stand up. Go back to sleep. I'll go shower and change, and I'll be back by eight. Okay?"  
  
He sighed and nodded. "Okay." He lifted his hand and traced the outline of her face with his fingertips. "Just make sure you come back."  
  
"I will. I promise." She leaned over to place a delicate kiss on his lips. "I'll see you in a few hours."  
  
"See you then."  
  
At the hotel she shucked her traveling clothes and stepped into the hot shower.   
  
This was happening. It was really happening. But she needed to be careful. They'd both been hurt. They both had more healing to do. Especially Ben. He had a whole life to rediscover, and years of built up anxiety and pain to deal with. She could help him, but she couldn't do it for him, and she couldn't push too hard.  
  
She repeated that thought again and again as she tilted her face up to let the hot water stream over her.  
  
 _Don't push too hard._  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
When Ben woke up alone in his bed it took him several minutes to convince himself that she'd really been there. That she was really coming back.   
  
He emerged from his room at two until eight, and Leslie hadn't arrived yet. He stood at the window by the front door for most of a minute, watching and waiting.  
  
No.  
  
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This wasn't healthy. He needed to get better—not just stay messed up in a whole new way.  
  
 _I'll take a shower, and she'll be here when I get out._  
  
He pulled himself away from the window and made his way to the bathroom, repeat the thought as he stripped and turned on the water.  _She'll be here when I get out._  
  
He left the water lukewarm to shock him into greater wakefulness, and scrubbed his body fiercely. He needed to feel clean and fresh. He needed to feel like today was the start of something new.  
  
Just as he was about to turn off the water there was a sharp rap on the bathroom door, and he heard his mother's voice. "Leslie just got here. I'm making breakfast."  
  
"I'll be right out." His heart pounded and he let himself smile.  
  
 _She came._  She'd said she would, and she did. He shouldn't have worried. This was Leslie—she'd never let him down.  
  
If only she could say the same about  _him_.   
  
He turned off the water and closed his eyes, wiping away the drips from his face. He couldn't let thoughts like that take over his mind at a time like this. Leslie was here. He needed to make the most of it.  
  
A few minutes later, dressed and ready, he walked into the kitchen. Leslie already sat at the table, her fingers wrapped around a mug of coffee. Her whole face lit up like a summer day when she saw him.  
  
God, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.  
  
He helped his mom finish making some eggs and pancakes, and they kept the conversation light over breakfast. Ben and Leslie offered to do the cleanup afterward, and Doreen excused herself to do some "lesson planning," though Ben was pretty certain she just wanted to give them some privacy. Not that he minded.  
  
"So," he said, rinsing a plate to stick in the dishwasher, "what do you want to do today?"  
  
Leslie finished scraping the egg scraps off another plate into the disposal, and smiled up at him. "I was hoping you'd give me a tour of town."  
  
Ben raised his eyebrows. "Really?"  
  
"Really. I mean, it's your hometown. It shaped you and molded you. I want to hear all about it."  
  
"I would have thought you'd have taken a tour when you first came to see my mom." He put the last of the plates in the dishwasher and rinsed off his hands.  
  
"I did," replied Leslie with a casual shrug. "But there was still a little snow on the ground, and with her crutches Doreen wasn't up to anything more than a driving tour. I want to get my feet on the ground and really experience Partridge. Besides, different people always have different perspectives on places, even when they're from the same family."  
  
"Okay." Ben tried to swallow the knot forming in his chest. He'd barely left the house since coming to see his mom, except for two excursions to the grocery store and one visit to Don's house. This would be more difficult. But he needed to start doing things like this. He needed to stop letting the anxiety trap him. "We'll take a tour."  
  
A few minutes later, Ben slid behind the wheel of Leslie's car and headed into the center of town. Though he hadn't been home in several years, he remembered every street and every landscape. He managed to lament the closure of six different restaurants and businesses within the first five minutes of driving. But it was nice to see some of the new chains and businesses that had moved into Partridge in his absence.  
  
The town center itself hadn't changed much. Ben parked alongside the small park there, and took Leslie's hand as they walked. The stately city offices still boasted impeccably maintained white columns across its entire façade. He pointed at the stairs. "They took my picture right there when I was sworn in. It was the proudest moment of my life." For the first time he smiled at the memory. After what he'd been through the past year, making some dumb mistakes in the public eye as a kid didn't seem like such a big deal anymore. He could almost laugh at it.  
  
Leslie squeezed his hand and leaned against him. "Teenage me would have made-out with teenage you so hardcore."  
  
Ben chuckled. "I'm pretty sure the feeling would have been mutual."  
  
They strolled slowly around the town center and along main street. Ben pointed out all the old family shops that were still there, and all the businesses he held campaign events at. He showed her the street down to his old fishing hole, and the park where he attempted dirt bike stunts with his friends. He had a moment of anxiety when a black SUV with dark tinted windows drove by, but Leslie felt him tense up and rubbed his back until he relaxed.  
  
As they walked and talked, Ben could almost imagine that he was Ben Wyatt again. That he'd been working in Pawnee for nearly a year, and had brought his girlfriend to Partridge for the first time to meet his family. He could pretend that he'd lived a normal, peaceful life, and had finally found the woman of his dreams to share it with. He could pretend that they'd never been apart. That she'd never been hurt. It was a fantasy he wanted to hold onto for as long as possible.  
  
After sharing lunch at a little diner off the town center, Leslie led Ben back to her car. "There's one place I remember seeing with your mom that I think we need to go to together, but it'll take a short drive."  
  
"Okay. Where to?"   
  
"It's a surprise. I have to drive."  
  
Ben let her take over the driver's seat and slide in beside her, eager to see what sort of surprise she could have managed to concoct in his own hometown. However, as she made a few turns, he began to suspect what their destination would be, and gripped the armrests. "Leslie—are you sure about this?"  
  
"Yes. I understand if the ice rink makes you nervous, but there's something inside that you have to see."  
  
Ben swallowed and nodded. Okay. He'd humor her.  
  
A minute later they pulled up in front of the run-down old ice-rink that he'd long ago planned to replace with the ill-fated Icetown. The building had undergone some renovations eight years again, but those had already worn down enough for the rink to look as dreary and old as it had during his youth. With a sigh of resignation, Ben followed Leslie out of the car and through the entrance of the rink.  
  
Thankfully, they by-passed the skate-rental desk. He certainly didn't feel up to a spin around the ice.  
  
Instead, Leslie led him toward the spectator area. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of what appeared to be extremely new, vivid white bleachers taking the place of the rickety old ones of his memory. "Wow. That's a nice upgrade," he said.  
  
"It is," she replied. "And take a look at the dedication plaque."  
  
She pointed at a small bronze plaque on the wall just to the side of the bleachers. He stepped forward to read it.  
  
"This public seating is dedicated in honor of Benjamin Adams, native son of Partridge, committed public servant, cancer research advocate and crusader for justice."  
  
Ben's jaw dropped. "What? I—I—what the hell?"  
  
Leslie smiled and shrugged. "Apparently the mayor's been getting some bad press this past year, and he thought a PR stunt involving a famous Partridge native would be good for his public image. He wanted to have an unveiling ceremony the week you got home, but Doreen managed to convince him that you weren't feeling up to it."  
  
Ben shook his head. "I still don't understand. I was a pariah in this town. People egged my car last time I came to visit."  
  
Leslie stood close to him and rubbed his back with one hand. "From what I hear, you can consider your past redeemed. I guess the folks around here like the idea of someone risking their life to bring justice to the families of cancer victims. You're a hometown hero now, whether you like it or not."  
  
They stood in silence for a moment, Ben blinking in confusion at the plaque. He'd avoided talking to people since arriving, and most of them didn't seem to recognize him with the beard, so he hadn't experienced this collective change of heart, yet. It couldn't be true, could it?  
  
"I wanted you to know that this is how people feel about you. About what you did," said Leslie softly. "I know you feel—god—all sorts of things, about how your time in Pawnee ended. And I know it's been eating you up inside. But you need to know that other people see you as a hero. The people of Partridge do. The people of Pawnee do. The families of the victims of Everson do. You're an amazing man, Ben. I hope someday you can understand why we feel that way."  
  
Dozens of possible refutations to his hero status floated through his mind, but one driving thought pushed them all aside.  
  
Time for some courage.  
  
"I love you," he said. His stomach felt queasy and his heart raced, but the look of happy surprise on her face spurred him onward. "I've felt this way for a long time, but I never told you back in Pawnee because I didn't want you to feel obligated to wait for me. But I'm starting to realize that when you feel something you should just say it, because you might lose your chance forever and regret it for the rest of your life. So I'm telling you now. Leslie Knope, I am in love with you."  
  
Leslie's answering smile was radiant, and moisture glistened in her eyes. "I love you too," she said with a shaking voice.  
  
"I know. My mom told me."  
  
Leslie's face cracked and laughter spilled out. Ben followed suit, letting the laughter well up deep inside him. Soon he was laughing so hard he could hardly breath.   
  
None of his guilt or anxiety had vanished, but something new was rising to join those feelings—relief.  
  
The dark times were over. He'd made it.  _They'd_  made it. Maybe it was time to let himself be happy again.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie had suspected—hoped—that Ben felt this way for a long time, but nothing compared to actually hearing him say it. The sound of his laughter and the look of his smile convinced her that Ben had finally,  _finally_ , come home to her.  
  
Though she'd been reminding herself since arriving on his doorstep that she needed to take things slow and careful, now was hardly the time for caution. Once their laughter subsided a little she wrapped her hands behind his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss.  
  
He wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close, sending tingles of warmth up and down her body. She wound her fingers up through his shaggy hair and kissed him with all the hunger and need that she'd been holding back since last night. He pulled her even closer, and all the tension and worry she'd been carrying for weeks melted away.  
  
She let herself revel in the impromptu make-out until she glimpsed a passing mother leading two young children giving them a dirty look.  
  
Leslie pulled back, sliding her hands down his chest. "Maybe we should take this outside."  
  
"Yes. Absolutely." His voice was rough and eager.  
  
Leslie grabbed his hand and half-jogged as she dragged him toward the car. No sooner had they slid into their seats and closed their doors then his hands were in her hair and his lips were moving against hers, leaving her face feeling raw from the rough burn of his beard.  
  
She'd warned herself to be patient. She'd told herself to be careful. She knew she ought to take things slow.  
  
Screw it.  
  
She pulled back from him, gasping. "Do you want to go back to my hotel?"  
  
"Yes." His voice rasped and his eyes darkened.  
  
God, she needed this.  
  
"Let's go." She clicked on her seatbelt and turned the key.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Ben followed Leslie to her hotel room with a rising sense of anticipation. Her radiant smile made his heart race.  
  
Everything about this moment felt gloriously, exquisitely real. He wasn't dreaming, he wasn't fantasizing, he wasn't remembering. No—this was actually happening.  
  
She loved him. She wanted him. They could be together again.  
  
As soon as the door to her room clicked shut behind them he pulled her back in for another lingering kiss, reveling in the scent of her excitement.  
  
She pushed his jacket off of his shoulders and he dropped it to the floor before tugging her sweater off over her head. He slid his hand under her thin button-up shirt and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, smiling at the her moan of pleasure as he palmed her breast.  
  
They stumbled toward the bed, kicking off their shoes and fumbling with belts and buttons.   
  
Her jeans crumpled to the floor just beside the bed, and she tugged his down before moving to kneel on the bed. Ben kicked off his jeans and joined her, kissing her again and again. He could do this forever.  
  
Leslie pushed her hands under his t-shirt, the feeling of her fingers on his skin tingling like electricity through his body. She grabbed his hem and tugged upward. He pulled back from her long enough to finish pulling it off, and then grinned and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist while she unbuttoned her shirt, a wanton smile on her face.  
  
He leaned forward to kiss her neck and push her shirt off her shoulders to let it drop to the bed, and then raised his head to stare down at her body.  
  
His heart stopped.  
  
A vivid red circular scar marred the skin at the base of her rib cage on her right side.  
  
He stared down at the scar, feeling dizzy, like he couldn't catch his breath.  
  
"Ben?" Her voice carried a note of worry.  
  
He closed his eyes and gasped for breath as memories of her red blood staining the white snow filled his mind.  
  
He felt her hands on his face, pushing his hair back, and then she pulled him against her until his head rested on her shoulder.  
  
"Shit. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he muttered.  
  
"It's okay. Really." She rubbed his back slowly. "I'm fine. You're fine. We're okay. We're going to get through this together."  
  
He focused on the sound of her breathing, the warmth of her hand on his back, the scent of her skin. She was alright. She was right here. He didn't have to be afraid anymore.  
  
He swallowed and took a few deep breaths. The memories subsided and his body calmed beneath her touch and soft whispers of reassurance.  
  
A few minutes later he lifted his head and felt a tear rolling down his cheek. "I'm sorry. I ruined it." He closed his eyes again, fighting against the embarrassment and guilt. "I'm so screwed up. Why do you even love me?"  
  
Leslie rested her hand on his cheek on forced him to meet her eyes. "I love you because I choose to love you. And I'm going to keep on choosing you. You have nothing to apologize for. Got it?"  
  
He felt another tear slipping from his eye, and blotted it away with the back of his hand. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve  _her_. But if she was going to give him this chance, he needed to work like hell to try to deserve it someday. "Got it."  
  
"Good. Now—I know this freaked you out, but it's a part of me now. So I want you to get used to it, okay?" She took his hand and guided it to her scar. It felt thick and rough beneath his fingers.  
  
"I have a matching one on the other side, see?" She angled her torso so he could see the larger, more irregular scar on her back.  
  
He held his breath and slid his hand around to rest his palm against it.  
  
"See?" she said. "I'm healing. It doesn't hurt anymore. I'm going to be fine. I'm the tree."  
  
Ben narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What?"  
  
Leslie smiled and shook her head. "Sorry—it's—well—I'll explain some other time. It just means that I won't let this stop me. I'm still going strong."  
  
"You are, aren't you?" It amazed him how strong such a small person could be. There was nothing weak or delicate about Leslie Knope.  
  
"And you are, too," she replied, resting her hand on his cheek again. "Or, at least you will be, if you keep getting the help you need."  
  
"I will. I promise." He felt so much better already after getting back on the pills and talking to Chris and the therapist and now Leslie. It could only get even better. It  _had to_.  
  
"Because if we're going to go for this—if we want it to be real, and want it to work, that's what it will take." She sounded vulnerable for the first time all day.  
  
Ben took another deep breath and nodded, taking both of her hands in his. "I want this to work. Not just us together, but your life—my life. I want it all to work. And I screwed up when I first came home. I—I wasn't ready, and I got stupid and went off my pills and hid when I should have been reaching out. I won't make that mistake again. I promise. I'll stay on the meds as long as I need them, and I'll keep going to the therapist, and, and anything else that I need to do. I promise."  
  
Leslie smiled, a few of her own tears welling. "Good. That's what I want. That's what you need. And I promise I'll keep getting the help I need, too. Ann's been amazing, and I've been seeing a therapist, too. It was weird at first, but it really helps. It's helped me and it'll help you, too. I know it will. We'll do this together. We'll get the help we need together. Okay?"  
  
The love and gratitude welling inside of him was almost enough to overwhelm him. He pulled her into a tight embrace. "Yes. Together. We'll do it together."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie savored Ben's slow, careful kisses just as much as she had his more urgent kisses earlier. They took their time, running their hands over each other's bodies, remembering all the familiar curves and contours.  
  
His fingers lingered on her new scars, but she didn't push him away. The scars were a part of her, now. She wanted him to love them as much as he loved the rest of her.  
  
She moaned and tugged at his hair when he sucked her nipple into his mouth, and gasped when he dipped his fingers inside of her before sliding them up to rub over her clit.  
  
He lifted his head to kiss her again, and she sucked on his lips and tongue, never wanting to let go. She ran her hand along his shaft and grinned at the way he shuddered. He shifted the movement of his fingers to make her shudder in return.  
  
They moved languorously, eking every possible moment of pleasure out each other's touch. She'd waited almost four months to be with him again—now she wanted this time to last forever.  
  
Her heat built slowly and surely, and when she couldn't stand it anymore she shifted to pull him between her legs. She trembled and cried out in ecstasy almost as soon as he slid inside of her. The wave of pleasure lingered as he continued to thrust, only ebbing slightly before he tensed and moaned, reaching his own climax.  
  
They lay tangled around each other, her head resting on his shoulder.  
  
"I love you so much," he murmured.  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
For the first time since Ben left Pawnee, she truly believed that everything was going to be okay.  
  
  
TBC


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter originally published on LiveJournal in November 2013
> 
> Thanks for reading and thanks for the support. A big shout-out to all my old LiveJournal pals who are still active in the Parks fandom. I only lurk on the edges these days, but I still love my show.

Chris's heart beat a little faster as he stepped away from the departing cab and looked up at his condo.   
  
There was his balcony, one of his bikes still perched against the bars. A pity his dad hadn't thought to cover it—it would have to be cleaned and tuned before it would be usable again. Even as those mundane thoughts passed through his mind, he felt somewhat in awe of how little seemed to have changed.  
  
Two years had passed, yet here it was—tangible proof that his life was still waiting for him to take it up again.  
  
He jogged up the stairs to his condo door and took a deep breath before sliding the key into his door lock and turning.  
  
Everything looked just as he'd left it. Almost.  
  
The small fountain on his entryway table had been turned off and the now-dry basin was coated in dust. His father had taken away most of his potted plants, but the few that remained were dead and withered in their pots. A thin layer of dust covered every shelf and surface.  
  
Even so, it was home.  
  
Chris lost himself in cleaning for the next few hours. He dusted and vacuumed and mopped, threw out the dead plants, and put all the bed and bath linens into the wash to freshen them up. Soon his condo smelled fresh and looked gleaming and new.  
  
He sat down with a bottle of vitamin water and contemplated what to do next. He could run to the store to re-stock his fridge and pantry. He could call any of the dozens of friends who were eager to see him again. He could start tweaking his resume to prepare for the job hunt he'd have to start soon.  
  
But first, he turned on his laptop and logged onto Facebook, Ann's words replaying in his mind. "Consider yourself pushed."  
  
He clicked over to Kelsey's page and stared at the bright smile she wore in her profile picture. He hovered his mouse pointer over the message button, and then pulled back.  
  
He shook his head and walked away from his computer. He stared into his empty fridge and paced his empty halls. He flopped down on his empty bed and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. What do you say to the love of your life after abandoning her for more than two years?   
  
One thing was clear—you don't do it over computer messaging.  
  
He needed to talk to her. Really  _talk_.  
  
Okay.  
  
Chris contemplated his options. He remembered her old cell number, but chances were high she'd changed it when she moved to Boston. However, there was still a chance he'd reach her. And dialing that number would be less embarrassing than calling half a dozen of their mutual friends to find out her new number. He'd save that as a backup plan.  
  
In either case, he'd better get started soon. If Ann Perkins kept her word (and he felt certain she would), embarrassing leading comments would soon start appearing on his Facebook wall.  
  
The last thing he wanted was for Kelsey to figure out what was going on after seeing a few too many comments from Ann showing up in her newsfeed.  
  
So there was no real choice. Time to dial that number. Time to be brave.  
  
He took a deep breath and punched the number into his phone.  
  
One ring. Two. Three.  
  
"Hello?" Her voice was so familiar yet so surprising.   
  
His heart started to race. He swallowed.  
  
"Hello?" she said again.  
  
"Hello. Hi, Kelsey. It's me—it's—"  
  
"Chris?" A new tension entered her voice.  
  
He drew in a shaky breath. "Yes. It's Chris."  
  
He listened as she let out a slow breath before answer. "Wow. Wow. I—I'm glad you called."  
  
"You are?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.  _Glad_  could mean so many things.  
  
"I am," she said. "I've been wanting to get in contact with you, but I didn't want to do it over the internet, and I didn't know how else to reach you. I'm glad I didn't change my cell number when I moved."  
  
There is was, again. That word.  _Glad_.  
  
"Yes," he said. "Me too." He opened his mouth to speak some more, but found himself at a loss for words. "I—I feel like there's so much to say, but I have no idea where to start," he confessed.  
  
"I can relate," she said. "I've had two years to think about all the things I want to say to you, and the list is pretty long."  
  
That didn't sound promising. Chris swallowed hard. "Well—maybe you could start at the top of your list and work your way down?"  
  
"Okay," she said softly. Was that a touch of anxiety in her voice?  
  
"Go on. Tell me exactly what you're thinking." He took a deep breath to brace himself.  
  
"Okay," she said again. "I guess the thing at the top of my list is this: I managed to piece together the timeline of your— _adventure_ —and I know you were already working with the FBI when you ended things between us. So tell me the truth, Chris. Why did you really break up with me?"  
  
Chris closed his eyes and took a deep, shaking breath. He'd hoped to have a little time to build up to this confession, but it seemed he wouldn't have that luxury. He owed her truth. And she needed it now.  
  
"Ending our relationship was one of the most painful choices of my life," he said. "But I felt like I had to. I knew that what I was doing with the FBI could get dangerous, and that it would complicate my life for years to come. I couldn't put you through that. I couldn't do that to you. So I ended things. And I've had more than two years to regret that choice."  
  
He heard her catch a sharp breath before responding, "You should have told me the truth."  
  
He tried to push down the lump in his throat. "Yes. I should have. It took me far too long to realize that, and by the time I did, it was too late. All I can do now is apologize. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not believing you could handle the truth."  
  
"Okay." Her voice shook with emotion. "Okay. Thank you. I—I guess I really needed to hear that. Thank you."  
  
Chris felt a tear roll down his cheek and closed his eyes, gripping the phone a little tighter. "The thing is," he said, facing the whole truth for the first time, "while I did want to protect you, while I did want to keep you safe, I also think I was protecting myself. I didn't want to share the truth with you and have you tell me that it was too much for you to handle. I was afraid that you'd leave me. That I wouldn't be worth the trouble. So I convinced myself that I was being noble, and letting you go for your own good. I'm sorry."  
  
"I get it. I really do. I probably would've done the same thing in your position. Everything always looks so much clearer once you've moved past it."  
  
"That it does."  
  
She sighed. "It's okay, Chris. I forgive you. I'm just glad you're finally safe. That's all I really wanted ever since I found out what was really going on. And now you're home, and you're safe, and, god, it's so good to hear your voice again." He thought he heard a trace of tears in the wavering of her voice.  
  
"Yes. God, yes. I've missed you, Kelsey. More than I can say."  
  
"I've missed you, too."  
  
Chris drew in a deep, cleansing breath as he felt an old weight slipping from his shoulders. "I have literally a million things I want to talk about. I just hate having to do it over the phone. I wish I could see you. I wish we could have this talk in person."  
  
"So come," said Kelsey.  
  
Chris blinked in surprise. "Come?"  
  
"I—well—if you want to. I have a guest room. You could stay, and I could take a personal day off work, and we could talk all we need to."  
  
"That—that—" Chris's heart pounded in his chest. Could this really be happening? Could he really be getting the second chance that he'd all but given up on?  
  
He glanced around his newly cleaned condo, taking in all the familiar pieces of art and books and furniture. The things he'd been so eager to return to. Yet none of them seemed to matter anymore.  
  
He'd been without them for two years, and he could have gone on living without them. But there was one thing he couldn't go without any longer.  
  
Boston was as good a place as any to start his future.  
  
"—that sounds perfect," he finished. "I'll book the next flight this afternoon. If—if that's not too soon?"  
  
Her happy laughter rang like a bell. "It's not too soon. As soon as you have the flight info text me, and I'll pick you up at the airport."  
  
"Okay," he said, unable to repress his grin.  
  
"Okay," she replied.  
  
A mere five and a half hours later he stood in the baggage claim area of Logan airport, clutching the handle of his suitcase, scanning the milling crowd for her face. He turned to see if she'd come in from another direction, or perhaps—  
  
"Chris! Chris Robinson!"  
  
He swung back around, and there she was. Tall and lean, her skin gleaming and healthy, her teeth shining in a wide smile. His heart leapt in his chest. She was just as beautiful as on the day he'd said goodbye.  
  
"Kelsey." Her name escaped from his lips like a sigh of relief, and he could feel tears of joy rising in his eyes, echoing the moisture he saw glistening in hers.  
  
Without another thought he abandoned his suitcase and strode toward her to wrap his arms around her.  
  
Her laughter filled his ears and she squeezed him back, holding like she never wanted to let go.  
  
There was still a chance that this reunion would never go beyond rebuilding an old friendship. There was still a chance that what they once had couldn't be rekindled. But as he held her in his arms, Chris couldn't help but feel like he'd found his new beginning.  
  
It felt like home.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Ben leaned into Leslie's shoulder, squeezing her thigh with his hand as she laughed at Don's latest over-the-top baby name suggestion, all the while trying to ignore the way his mom kept beaming at him.  
  
"What?" said Don. "Appaloosa is still a better name than Satchel. Or Rumer. Seriously."  
  
Leslie and Lisa both shook their heads vigorously, and Ben piped up, "No. It's not. Don't name my niece after a type of horse. Please?"  
  
For the third night in a row they all sat together in his mom's family room after sharing a family dinner. It had been the best three days of Ben's life since leaving Pawnee. But tonight's gathering felt a little bittersweet. Though Leslie had taken two days off of work, tomorrow (Tuesday) she'd have to make the long drive back to Indiana to make it to work again Wednesday morning.  
  
"Don't worry," said Lisa firmly. "My daughter will  _not_  be named after a type of horse. Or any type of animal for that matter. I'm actually leaning toward Madeline."  
  
Ben grinned at the way Leslie's face lit up. He knew exactly where her mind was going—to a certain female secretary of state whose portrait hung in a position of prominence on her office wall.  
  
"Madeline is a very good choice," he said. "I approve."  
  
"Me too," said his mom. "Madeline—Maddy. So lovely"  
  
Lisa raised an eyebrow at Don. "See?"  
  
Don let out an exaggerated sigh and shook his head. "You just don't appreciate the art of creative naming."  
  
The conversation continued to shift and flow for another hour, and Ben felt a growing need to stretch it as long as possible. He didn't want to have to think about Leslie leaving in the morning, but that knowledge buzzed as a constant background to the night.  
  
At last Lisa pleaded exhaustion and she and Don said goodnight. Lisa gave Leslie a lingering goodbye hug while Leslie reiterated her promise to come out for the baby shower in two weeks. Once they were gone, his mom met Ben's eyes and smiled. "Well, I'll be turning in, too. I probably won't see you in the morning, Leslie. Let me say my goodbyes right now."  
  
Leslie and his mom hugged, and Ben saw his mom whispering something in Leslie's ear and looked away, feeling like an eavesdropper. Somehow Leslie had captured the hearts of his entire family just as surely as she'd captured his, and he was still getting used to it.  
  
After his mom had headed down to her room, he faced Leslie, taking both her hands in his and smiling down at her. "Well."  
  
"Well," she said, smiling back up at him.  
  
He took a deep breath, all his anxiety over her departure threatening to well up. "Well . . ."  
  
"Do you wanna go back to my hotel?" she asked urgently, her grip on his hands tightening convulsively.  
  
"Yes."  
  
They barely made it through the door of her hotel room before they began shedding clothes. All he wanted was to feel her skin against his—warm and soft and eager. He wanted to make the most of every moment they still had together.  
  
Later, after they were spent and exhausted, they lay curled around each other. Ben tried to feign sleep—he knew she needed her rest for the long drive. But he could tell after a while that her sleep was as feigned as his.  
  
"I wish you could stay," he whispered, finally giving into his anxieties. He swallowed and held his breath, waiting for her reply.  
  
She shifted her position so she could meet his eyes, and pushed his hair back from his face. "You could come back with me." The vulnerability in her voice was palpable.  
  
He closed his eyes, remembering the faces of all the people who'd trusted him who he'd lied to—who he'd endangered. "I—I can't. I'm not ready."  
  
"I know." She rested her forehead against his. "I know. They really do want you to come back, you know. They don't hold any of it against you—not now that they've had time to process."  
  
Ben had a hard time believing that this was more than lip service her friends gave to Leslie to make her feel better. They couldn't really want him back. Not after how badly he'd fucked things up. "I don't know," he whispered.  
  
"It's okay. But when you're ready, we'll all be waiting."  
  
Eventually they must have fallen asleep, because the next thing Ben remembered was waking up to see Leslie pulling on her clothes. She smiled down at him. "Hey. It's time for me to go."  
  
He squeezed his lips together and nodded, trying to ignore the growing ache in his chest.  
  
Ben got up and helped her finish her packing and put her suitcase in her car for her. It was silly, but he wanted to do  _something_  to help her. Something to make him think that she might actually need him the way he needed her.  
  
She drove him back to his mom's house and stepped out of the car to give him a last hug and kiss goodbye. Ben didn't want to let go. He didn't want to go back to that dark, empty place he'd been in before she came.  
  
"It's going to fine," she muttered into his shoulder as he held her. "Just stick with your meds—make sure you don't miss a day. And keep up with weekly therapy. I know it'll help." He swallowed and nodded as she continued, "And let Doreen and Don and Lisa help you. They all love you so much. Don't shut them out—okay?"  
  
"Okay, I promise," he whispered.  
  
Leslie slowly peeled back from their embrace and met his eyes. "I'll call you when I stop for lunch. And again when I get home."  
  
She shot him one last heartbreaking smile before she slipped back into the care. He tried to wave lightly as she pulled away, but he felt like the most important piece of his heart was driving away.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie rehashed her whole visit with Ben over morning coffee with Ann first thing on Wednesday. It felt so good to have her best friend's arms around her, listening and understanding.  
  
Ann nodded with certainty as Leslie finished her recap. "This is really good, Leslie. It's all going to work out."  
  
Leslie squeezed her coffee cup a tighter. "Are you sure? I mean—he's taking some important steps, but he's still in such a fragile place—"  
  
"Which he's never going to get out of if everyone keeps tip-toeing around him like he's a fragile little baby bird. He has the outside help he needs. Now he needs to start helping himself." Ann gave a firm nod.  
  
"Yeah. Yep. I know you're right. And I know Dr. Nygard will say the same thing when I talk to him tomorrow. I just wish there was a way I could do more. Ben is still terrified of coming back here, but I know if he just came, he'd see that Pawnee can still be home to him." Leslie frowned.  
  
"What you want is to control him—and everyone else—to make it all work out exactly like you want it to. He's not a 5K or a Harvest Festival. He's a human being. You need to accept that you can't control this. All you can do is help him and love him and encourage him. He has to do the rest himself."  
  
Leslie blinked back the moisture rising in her eyes. "That's what I'm afraid of."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie's three or four daily calls were what carried Ben through the next week. Yes, his second therapy session went well. And yes, the meds seemed to be stabilizing his moods and taming his anxiety and panic. But he wouldn't have remembered to keep leaning on his family—to keep sharing with them—if Leslie hadn't been prodding him.  
  
The sixth morning after she left he woke up early. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror and frowned at what he saw there. Shaggy hair, a scraggly beard, and hollows under his eyes. He couldn't keep letting himself go like this. Not if he wanted to make himself worthy of all the trust and belief Leslie and his family kept showering on him.  
  
It only took a little digging under the sink to find an old home-haircutting kit his mom had stashed down there. He used the scissors to trim the beard as close to his skin as he could, and then used the electric clippers to buzz it down to stubble. Finally he splashed his face with steamy hot tap water and lathered on some shaving cream. By the time he finished dragging the razor across his skin, he was starting recognize the man looking back at him.  
  
He was still pale and gaunt, but he was Ben again.  
  
After rinsing his face he went for a long walk, and even waved at the neighbors he recognized. By the time he got back to his mom's place he'd worked up a big appetite for breakfast. He noticed his mom beaming at him as he wolfed down a plate of eggs and toast.   
  
"You look good," she said. "But you still need a haircut."  
  
He smiled back. Now this was the mom he remembered—not the woman walking on glass around him every day.  
  
"I can call my stylist and see if she has room for you, today," she offered.  
  
Normally he'd just go down to Great Clips for a ten dollar cut. He wasn't fussy. But today, he'd indulge his mom. She wanted to help, and he needed to let her. "Sure." He nodded. "Go ahead and give her a call."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Leslie's heart skipped a beat when Ben opened Doreen's door looking like  _Ben_  again. She was back in town for Lisa's baby shower and another weekend visit, and he hadn't given her any clues over the phone that this was what she'd be getting.  
  
Her jaw dropped. "Oh my god! You look so good!"  
  
He smiled sheepishly. "Yeah? My mom sent me to her stylist. I think she did a pretty good job. So you like it?"  
  
"I love it. You look so sexy right now."  
  
He laughed, but she wasn't joking. She'd been fantasizing about seeing his bare face again for the past two weeks. She launched herself at his face and reveled in the smooth skin against her lips as they made out.  
  
When she finally pulled back, Ben laughed again. "Wow. You  _really_  like it. I should have given her a bigger tip."  
  
"Yes. And I'm so glad I didn't have to be the one to prod you about the beard—I know that men have very special relationships with their facial hair. But smooth is much nicer."  
  
Ben grinned. "Well, I wasn't too attached to it."  
  
"Good."  
  
She had another wonderful weekend visiting with him and his family, and faced another wrenching ache in her chest when she had to drive her rental car back to the airport late Sunday night. She couldn't afford to take any more personal or sick days this year.   
  
Ben had been in much better spirits this weekend. He really seemed to be improving. But he'd still declined her offer to come visit Pawnee. It hurt like hell to be going home to a place he might never be comfortable coming to again.  
  
If she could just convince him to come—if she could show him the tree, and let all their friends show him how happy they'd be to have him back—she knew she could convince him to stay.  
  
She knew she needed to be patient. To let him do it when he felt ready. But how long would it take? She wanted him in her life—her  _daily_  life—now. Not in two years.  
  
She'd just have to keep trying. That was all she could ever do.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Three days after Leslie's second visit, Ben bought a car.  
  
He'd been frustrated over the lack of a vehicle of his own for a few weeks now, but he'd had a hard time talking himself into using the money sitting in his old bank accounts. It still felt like blood money.  
  
Dr. Houston shook her head when confessed the concern to her. "Ben," she'd said, "Everson may not have earned that money honestly—but you did. You worked hard. So hard that you uncovered the very evidence of wrong-doing that put a stop to his illegal practices. That money is yours. You have nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
She'd suggested that he break the ice by treating himself to something nice. A car probably wasn't what she'd been thinking of, but after a day of waiting for his mom to get home so he could get a ride to the grocery store, he finally hit his breaking point. He wasn't a dependent child. He hadn't been for two decades. It was time to stop acting like one.  
  
When he paid a cashier's check for the three-year old civic, he felt like a grown man for the first time since leaving Pawnee.  
  
He sat behind the wheel of his new ride and cruised the town, windows down to let the wind rush over his face.  
  
It felt pretty damn good.  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
"Okay—that does it for the official business today," said Leslie, closing her binder and look down the conference table at her wonderful colleagues and friends. "But before you go, I'd like to ask you all for a personal favor."  
  
She took a deep breath as they all stared at her expectantly. Normally, she didn't want to use her official position to ask her personal help, but in this case she felt like they might be quicker to act if she spoke from her position of professional authority. They all seemed to drag their feet when she tried to prod them during their off-duty times.  
  
"I was wondering if all of you could take a few minutes over the next week to reach out to Ben. He's doing a lot better, but he's still reluctant to come visit Pawnee after everything that happened here. I think it would help a lot to know that you're all thinking about him."  
  
"Are you sure he wants to hear from us?" asked Donna. "I mean—you'd think he'd have come by now if he really wanted to see us again."  
  
"Seriously," said Tom. "The mayor would've thrown him a parade two months ago. Now it's just old news."  
  
Leslie sighed. She hadn't talked about Ben's struggles very much with her friends—other than Ann—because none of them knew just how deep his psychological scares ran, and she didn't know how to explain it.  
  
"Look," she said, "Ben went through a lot of trauma here, and he's not completely over it yet. But the biggest reason he hasn't come is because he thinks no one will want him here. He thinks you'll all hold grudges against him for lying to you and putting you in mortal danger. But you're all over that, aren't you?" She winced as she finished, knowing that those probably weren't the right words for this particular occasion.  
  
"Absolutely!" said Andy. "I'm totally over it. I think it would be awesome to see Ben again."  
  
Leslie grinned. "See? Andy gets it. Come on, how about the rest of you?"  
  
There was grumbling and mumbling, but also a lot of smiles as they all agreed it would be nice to see Ben again.  
  
"Perfect! I took the liberty of making these cards with his new cell number and email, so you can all find a few minutes sometime this week to get in touch." Leslie handed around the cards and made sure everyone actually took one instead of tossing it in the trash.  
  
She sighed as she sat back at her desk after the meeting. Well, she'd tried. Now she could only hope that a few of them followed through.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Ben stared at the rough draft of his resume, wondering how in the hell he was going to explain the recent two-plus year gap in his work history to any prospective employers. He didn't want to try to pass himself off as a crusading hero, but if he didn't he'd come across as a whistle-blowing toady to a pretty evil man.  
  
Crap. This was going to be hard.  
  
As he pondered the situation he heard his text-alert beep from his phone. Welcoming the distraction, he picked it up and raised his eyebrows in surprise. It was from Tom.  
  
"Yo—nerd! What's up! Long time no see. Hey, I've been thinking about leaving the gov to start my own business. I thought a finance nerd like you might have some advice. Call me. –Tommy"  
  
Ben smiled and let out a soft laugh. This was unexpected, but so utterly Tom to only contact him when he needed something. Still, it was nice to hear from him again. He'd have to call him later.  
  
A few hours later, after mowing his mom's lawn, he noticed another text had come in. This one was from Donna. "Hey Ben, you used to read those Game of Thrones books, right? Have you been watching the show? You should be. Because that is some badass awesome shit. Watch it and we can talk about it sometime."  
  
He hadn't thought that Donna would remember his reading choices, and it felt good to hear from her, but he had a feeling that something fishy was going on.  
  
The next morning his suspicions were confirmed when, in short succession, he got a short email from April Ludgate saying: "Hey – loser – why haven't you come to see us yet?" followed by a phone call from none other than Andy.  
  
"Ben! You answered! You're really alive!"  
  
Ben quirked his smile and raised his eyebrows. "Uh—yeah? Was there seriously a question about that at this point?"  
  
"Well, I thought maybe Leslie told us you were alive just to make us feel better, but that you were really dead and that your ghost was haunting our condo. Because it used to be your condo. Thanks for the great furniture, by the way."  
  
"You're welcome," said Ben with growing incredulity. "But why would you think I was haunting your condo?"  
  
"Oh, I kept hearing weird noises, and things would move when my back was turned. April told me it was just Orin's pet ferret, 'cause it escapes from its cage all the time. But I wasn't sure if she was right until just now when I talked to you. And now that I know you're not a ghost I have to talk to Orin about putting a better lock on the ferret cage."  
  
Ben wasn't sure if he should start giving Andy some serious life advice or just laugh at his zest for life in spite of his intellectual shortcomings, but either way he couldn't stop smiling from ear to ear. "Glad to help you clear that up."  
  
"Yeah. Thanks! And you totally need to come visit. I think you'll really like what we've done with the place. And I've got some new fighting moves to show you. I'm doing so good at the dojo that Don gave me a job teaching one of the kids' classes. So now I'm a shoe-shinist by day, martial arts expert by night. It's pretty sweet."  
  
"That's awesome, Andy. I'm really glad you stuck with the classes and that they're paying off like this. I'm really happy for you." He was also happy that Andy's was the first non-Leslie voice from Pawnee that he'd heard. Andy had a way of making him relax that Ben felt certain wouldn't have happened with anyone else.  
  
"Me too, man. And I'm serious about you coming to visit. You really need to."  
  
Ben squeezed his lips together and thought for a moment. "Maybe I will. Maybe."  
  
"Awesome. I can't wait to see you," said Andy.  
  
Ben sighed. "Um—one question. Did Leslie put you up to this? Calling me, I mean?"  
  
"Oh, yeah, totally."  
  
"That's what I thought." Ben squeezed his eyes shut. She meant well. Really, she did. "Well, it was great hearing from you. I'll call you again sometime."  
  
He didn't mention any of his contact with his old Pawnee friends to Leslie when she called later that day. He didn't want to give her reason to gloat or push. Ben needed a little more time to think about this.  
  
The next day in his therapy session he explained the entire situation to Dr. Houston.  
  
"I just feel like—if they were really my friends, why did they need Leslie to push them into getting in touch with me?" He shook his head, not sure if he was more frustrated at Leslie or at his other friends, or at himself.  
  
"To be fair, you haven't exactly opened yourself up to contact," replied Dr. Houston in the tone she always used when she knew she was telling him something he already knew. "Even after you let Leslie back into your life, you haven't made any efforts to spread your new contact information or to let people know you were ready to talk again—have you?"  
  
"No." Ben sighed and sank deeper into the heavily cushioned chair in her office. "I haven't. But they didn't ask Leslie for my number. She had to push it on them."  
  
"So what?"  
  
Ben scrunched up his forehead and met Dr. Houston's questioning gaze. "So what?" he echoed.  
  
"Yes. So what? As soon as she gave them your number, they all started reaching out. They didn't balk. They didn't hesitate. They reached out."  
  
"They just did it for Leslie," he muttered.  
  
"Are you sure about that?" Dr. Houston arched an eyebrow at him.  
  
Ben swallowed and stared down at his fidgeting hands in his lap. They hadn't sounded like they were repeating Leslie's same old arguments for visiting Pawnee. They'd all approached him with comments on the same sorts of things they'd talked about when he was still working with them every day. The same sorts of things they'd talked about when they were  _friends_.  
  
"No," he admitted. "Maybe—maybe they really were being friends."  
  
Dr. Houston nodded slowly. "And maybe it's worth it to give them the benefit of the doubt?"  
  
"Yeah. Maybe it is."  
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Leslie's heart leaped in her chest when Donna casually mentioned that she'd been texting about Game of Thrones with Ben. It leaped even higher when Andy mentioned he'd talked to Ben and that Ben had totally promised to maybe come visit. The next day Tom said he'd scheduled a phone appointment with Ben to get financial advice on his idea for starting a new multi-media entertainment conglomerate with Jean-Ralphio. That had been enough to leave a lump in her throat that she had wash down with a cup of chocolate-laden coffee.  
  
When she talked to Ben after work that day she put on her best "super-casual" voice and said, "So I hear you're back in touch with a few of your old Pawnee friends."  
  
"Yeah," he said. "We've been talking. It's—pretty cool. Pretty cool."  
  
She still heard an edge of tension in his voice which made her wince. "Are you sure? It's not too much?"  
  
"No. It's actually—pretty great. I'm starting to think maybe it's, uh, finally time to visit Pawnee."  
  
Her throat felt tight again and she felt like her voice was croaking as she managed to respond, "That would be really great. When do you think you want to come?"  
  
"Um—maybe I can make a long weekend of it next week and come out on Friday?"  
  
Her heart swelled. It was everything she'd been waiting for.  _Please let this work. Please let him see how much Pawnee means to him._  "That sounds perfect."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The days following Ben's commitment to visit Pawnee took on an increasingly surreal tone as he exchanged texts and short calls with once-familiar friends as if no time or lies had ever passed between them until, three days later, the most surreal thing of all happened.  
  
He was summoned—there was no other way to describe it—to the office of the mayor of Partridge.  
  
Ben felt his sweat start to lubricate his palms as he walked up the steps of city hall, and he had to wipe his hand on his pants before offering it to Mayor Stice.  
  
All the furniture in the mayor's office had changed since his brief stint, but the wood-paneled walls and built in bookshelves were just the same as he remembered them. One of those shelves used to hold his collection of Star Wars action figures. He got the feeling from the current décor that Stice wouldn't have looked kindly on that particular display.  
  
God, it was strange to be back.  
  
His mom had warned him of the mayor's many attempts to throw a public ceremony to honor him, which she'd thankfully rebuffed. But when he was asked ( _told_ ) to come to a private meeting, he'd figured it couldn't be too bad. He needed to learn to face his fears again, or so Dr. Houston kept telling him.  
  
The meeting started off benign enough, with the mayor praising him on his courageous and honorable service and so on. Ben still didn't care for that kind of talk, but he bit his tongue and put up with it.  
  
"I truly don't think a small plaque in an ice rink is enough reward for service of your magnitude," said Stice.  
  
Ben forced a smile and dipped his head modestly. "Well, really, the knowledge that I've helped the lives of cancer patients everywhere is enough reward for me."  
  
"Nonsense," Stice waved a dismissive hand. "Not only are you a hero—you're a damn smart one. I've done some looking into your background and resume. It's very impressive. Now, I'll let you in on a little secret. The town has run in on some hard times, financially. Not as bad as back in your day," Stice chuckled condescendingly and Ben wrinkled his nose in distaste, "but not terribly good, either. And as it happens, I've had to let our town comptroller go. He just wasn't up to the job. And when I was thinking about who had what it takes to work by my side to usher in a new era of fiscal stability for our great town, well, I couldn't think of anyone better than you." Stice grinned at him.  
  
Ben raised his eyebrows, his jaw dropping a little. "Wait a minute—are you—offering me a job?"  
  
"You bet I am." Stice waved a pointing finger in his face. "I want you for my new comptroller, and I'm determined to have you. Say the word, and we can get this thing started. I can get a press conference together to announce your appointment this very afternoon, if you're game."  
  
Ben fidgeted and twisted in his chair, trying in vain to avoid the intense gaze of mayor Stice. "Um. Wow. That's—that's—that's very flattering. Um. I don't know quite what to say." The thought that the mayor seemed intent on using him to boost public morale regarding the current administration (there was no other plausible explanation) was enough of a bizarro alternate timeline for him to feel at a complete loss for words.  
  
"Say you'll take the job." Stice leaned toward Ben, wearing a menacing grin with his gleaming too-white teeth.  
  
"You know—I'm going to have to think about it. I—I'm not sure yet if this is the direction I want to take my life." He shifted to stand up.  
  
"If it's the compensation you're worried about, stop. I'm prepared to make you a very competitive offer—"  
  
Ben jumped to his feet. "How about you have the offer sent to my place once it's all written up, so I can take my time considering it. Okay? Thank you so much. I've got to run." He turned and scurried out of the office as fast as he could get away with, ignoring Stice's protests behind him. He was in no mood for those kind of hard-sell tactics, today. Especially not from someone as obviously sleazy as Stice.  
  
He'd had enough of untrustworthy bosses. Never, ever again.  
  
An almost equally surreal moment arrived late that afternoon when his phone rang and a Pawnee city offices phone number flashed on his caller i.d.  
  
Ben answered immediately, wondering if Leslie had misplaced her cell. Instead, he found himself speaking to Paul Iaresco.  
  
"Wow—Paul. How are you doing? How is your recovery going?" Ben managed to say after realizing who he was speaking to.  
  
"Recovery has gone really well. I still get winded faster than I used to, but it's getting better. And I’m back to work and doing fine. Thanks for asking."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah. I, uh, I really need to apologize to you for leaving you high and dry like that. I shouldn't have committed to the job when the possibility existed that I'd have to leave in a hurry—"  
  
"No apology necessary," said Paul, cutting him off. "You had a hell of a good reason for hiding the truth, and none of what happened in January was your fault. I never held it against you."  
  
Ben smiled and sank into a comfortable chair. "Thank you. Really. You have no idea what that means to me."  
  
"You're welcome. Anyway—the reason I'm calling is that I hear you may be coming back to Pawnee."  
  
"Well, I am planning to visit in a few days."  
  
"I'd like to have a talk with you when you're in town. You see, my doctor's been nagging me to get my work week back down to forty hours and I can barely keep on top of things working fifty or sixty. So I've just gained city council approval to bring on a permanent assistant city manager. And if you'd ever consider relocating to Pawnee for good, the job is yours, if you want it."  
  
Ben's heart froze in his chest. Was this fate trying to send him a sign? Just a happy coincidence? Did it really matter? "Wow. Even after everything that happened, you'd really want me for the position?"  
  
"I would. Frankly, you're over-qualified and I won't be able to pay you nearly what you're probably used to from your days in corporate accounting. But I have it on good authority that you're done with the corporate world and that you still feel very attached to Pawnee, and that if I don't offer you the job then I'm a damn fool."  
  
Ben let out a hollow laugh. "Did Leslie say that?"  
  
"No. Ron Swanson did. That's what he said to me just this morning when I asked him what he thought of you for the job."  
  
Ben's voice caught in his throat. Of all his old Pawnee friends, he'd been most sure that Ron would be done with him after what happened to Leslie. And he'd thought his suspicions were confirmed when Ron was the only of his old crowd not to contact him, yet. "Ron really said that?"  
  
"He sure did," said Paul. "And that's about as enthusiastic as Ron ever gets about anything, so I took it as a ringing endorsement."  
  
"Wow. Yeah."  
  
"Look, Ben, I know you probably need some time to think things over. Just drop by my office when you get into town and I'll make the time to talk over the full offer with you. You aren't the only name on my list of candidates, but you're right at the top. I'll give you a few weeks to think it through."  
  
"Thanks. I really appreciate that. And I will think about. Hard."  
  
"Good. I'll see you soon."  
  
It took a few minutes for Ben's heart to stop racing after hanging up. This was too good to be true. Everything about Pawnee had been too good to be true right from the very start.  
  
Could he really let himself believe again?  
  
He tossed and turned late into the night as his mind spun with the thoughts that maybe he really could go back. Maybe he really could have a second shot at his happily ever after.  
  
Yet another unexpected call came early the next morning—one Ben was happy to answer when the number flashed on his caller i.d..  
  
"Chris! How's it going? How's Atlanta?" Somehow more than a month had passed since he last spoke to Chris. It had been far too long.  
  
"Things are absolutely fantastic. And I'm sorry I haven't been checking in with you like I said I would. My life has truly been a whirlwind these past six weeks. But before I get started on all my news, please, tell me how you're doing?"  
  
Ben smiled. "Better. A lot better. Things are going really well with Leslie, and the meds are working and therapy is helping. I've gotten back in touch with some of the old gang from Pawnee. I'm actually headed out to visit in two days."  
  
"That is literally the best news I've had in days. I'm so happy for you!"  
  
The enthusiasm in Chris's voice brought a chuckle rising in Ben's throat. God, it was good to hear from him again. "So what's all your news that you're so excited about?"  
  
Chris took a deep breath before answering. "I'm moving to Boston!"  
  
Ben nearly dropped his phone. The last he'd heard from his friend, he'd just finished up a very good visit with his ex, Kelsey, in Boston. But that had been over a month ago. "Wait—what?"  
  
"Kelsey and I are moving in together. Isn't it fantastic?"  
  
"Wow. Just—I didn't even know you two were officially back together."  
  
"Well—we were dancing around it when I last called you. Trying to play it safe and slow. But when she came to see me in Atlanta again a week after our first visit, we just knew. We both knew that we'd put off our happiness for long enough, and what we wanted more than anything was to start building our lives and our future  _together_. We've been popping back and forth between Boston and Atlanta ever since. I put my condo on the market last week, and we just had our offer accepted on a home together in Boston. Isn't it remarkable?" The joy and wonder in Chris's voice was overwhelming.  
  
"Yes. It is. That's so awesome, man. I'm really, really happy for you. Let me know once you're all moved in and I'll come visit you."  
  
"I would love that."  
  
"I know."  
  
"And I'm so glad that things are going well for you and Leslie. I was worried about you."  
  
Ben's smile softened. The reminder of just how many people really care about him over the past couple of weeks had done more for his anxieties then the meds and the therapy combined. "Yeah. I really love her, and in spite of everything, she actually loves me back. It's—pretty remarkable, too. But this long distance is tough. I mean, we talk all the time and the visits have been pretty frequent, but it's hard."  
  
"So what's stopping you from moving back to Indiana? I know how happy you were there."  
  
"I was. I really was. I just—" Ben froze. He just what? Two weeks ago he would have been able to spout off a long list of excuses as to why he couldn't go back, but all those reasons had been evaporating one by one. "I don't know what's stopping me," he admitted. "Leslie wants me to come, my friends have forgiven me, and just yesterday Paul called to offer me a job. I really don't know what's stopping me."  
  
"It sounds like the only thing stopping you is inertia," said Chris. "You don't really want to keep living in your mom's house in Partridge, do you?"  
  
Ben loved his mom, and she'd done so much for him. But no—this place still wasn't home. The only place that had really felt like home in the past few years was Pawnee. "I don't."  
  
"So get up and go. Just go. Stop thinking about it. Just move."  
  
Ben shook his head and smiled as he remembered all the times over the past year he'd gotten that very same advice, yet he still needed to hear it. "Okay."  
  
"Really? You're not just saying that?" Chris sounded understandably skeptical.  
  
"Really. You're right. I need to stop waiting for my life to get started again. I need to get out there and make it happen."  
  
"Yes! That's exactly what I was thinking when Kelsey and I decided to live together. We put our lives on hold for more than two years, Ben. Haven't we wasted enough time?"  
  
"Yes," said Ben, his conviction growing every second. "We have."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Thursday afternoon Leslie stood in the center of the Parks Department staring pensively at the two banners Tom and Donna had made. Setting aside her concerns about font choice, it was the wording that really worried her.  
  
One banner read: "Welcome back Ben!" The other read: "Welcome home Ben!"  
  
That single word change made all the difference in the world, and she had no idea which one to hang up for his arrival tomorrow.  
  
"Welcome home," said Andy. "Definitely welcome home. You know the dude's not leaving again once he gets here."  
  
"I don't know," said Leslie. "His mind still isn't made up. There might be some things here in Pawnee that trigger his anxieties too much."  
  
"I'm with Leslie," said Donna. "That boy was pretty messed up. We don't want to put too much pressure on him."  
  
Leslie swallowed hard. She hated this. She hated having to stress over one tiny word.   
  
Ron ambled up beside her. "Chose whichever one you like best. Ben won't mind either way."  
  
Leslie frowned. "But what if—"  
  
"What won't I mind?"   
  
Leslie's jaw dropped and she spun on her heels to see Ben standing just inside the doors of the department, grinning from ear to ear, dressed like he was just showing up for another day at work.  
  
"Oh my god!" she cried, racing toward him to throw her arms around him. "You're a day early! We were planning a party for you."  
  
He squeezed her tight and laughed. "Sorry to ruin your plans. I got tired of waiting so I started driving out yesterday afternoon. I just pulled into town."  
  
Leslie could hardly believe her ears. She pulled back from the hug and glared up at him. "You sneak! You didn't say anything when we talked last night  _or_  this morning."  
  
"I wanted it to be a surprise," he said with a twinkle in his eyes that made him look more like himself than anything she'd seem from him over the past two months.  
  
"Well, it is!"  
  
And then the private reunion ended as their friends crowded around them, hugging Ben and welcoming him back.  
  
A few tears slid down Leslie's cheeks as she watched his joyful grin while he embraced all his old friends. Maybe Andy was right. God, she hoped Andy was right.  
  
She blotted away her tears before Ben turned back to her and took her hand. "How about we move that party to tonight? We can all get some dinner together at J.J.s and then grab some drinks after?"  
  
He was answered by a chorus of voices in the affirmative.  
  
"Then it's a plan," said Leslie, her heart pounding. "We'll head there right after work tonight."  
  
"But right now," said Ben, his grin sending a thrill down her spine, "we're going to go get some coffee and catch up. I'll see you all a little later." He waved brightly and pulled Leslie after him into the corridor as a few teasing comments followed them.  
  
Leslie smiled as he led her down to the break area, and when they found it unoccupied he promptly pulled her into a passionate kiss. Waves of warmth flowed through her whole body, and she felt like singing. Everything felt right again.  
  
When the kiss finally broke they stood smiling giddily at each other for a moment. Leslie took a deep breath to clear her head. "Wow. I'm so, so happy that you're finally here."  
  
"Me too," he said softly. "I waited too long. But I'm not waiting anymore." He smiled a little broader. "I'm about to head up to Paul's office to talk about a certain job offer he made me a few days ago."  
  
Leslie felt like her eyebrows had shot right up to her hairline. "Wait—what? Are you serious?"  
  
"Completely serious. I've never been more serious about anything in my life."  
  
The world was spinning so fast that Leslie wasn't sure if she could stay on her feet if she let go of his hands.  
  
"Welcome home," he said, holding her gaze with his eyes.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The banners. Use the one that says welcome home."  
  
  
  
  
  
The End


End file.
